Ugly
by hotoffthefryer
Summary: Ino climbed the social chain by being a witch with a letter change and sticking pom-pons in people's faces. I was thrown into popularity by smashing cakes in faces. Well, not faces. Sasuke Uchiha's face. "I'm sor-" He glared, "Shut up, Haruno." AU-hi, SxS
1. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

"It is better to be beautiful than to be good, but it is better to be good than to be ugly."

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><p><em>Ugly<em>

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><p>So, there's this scenario. With a girl. Naturally, there's also a boy involved. Yep. And he is <em>really <em>attractive. Like…ugh, he is just delicious on a freaking stick. And he is also right by me. Perfect vantage point. Yes. Keep on being super sexy. Uh-huh.

He turned and looked at me, eyes narrowing dangerously. I froze, looking robotically away from Sasuke and at this packet on my desk, remembering what I was talking about earlier.

So, on with this scenario.

* * *

><p><strong>CAST<strong>

_(In order of appearance)_

Haruno Sakura: A teenaged girl between the ages of roughly sixteen and seventeen with naturally pink locks and emerald eyes that promise a punch.

Uchiha Sasuke: Konoha heartthrob teenager around seventeen who also works as the pizza deliveryman of his best friend, _Uzumaki Naruto_, who owns it with his family.

* * *

><p>We're all taking a test in Room 207G—the math wing. I tapped my pencil to the beat of a song currently plastered into my brain, eyeing the clock with unconcerned concern. Fifteen more minutes and the period would be complete. Most everyone was done at this point, amazingly. For some reason I thought AP tests would give people some problems. People have been sitting, done, picking their noses, for almost forty-five minutes.<p>

I sent my viridian eyes downward then, glancing through the fifteen page final packet. Nothing. Just my name on the top of each page. One answer on some Pre-Algebra level question. I must be the class idiot. Grumbling, I leaned deeper into my seat, feeling all of the sudden at a crossroads. To cheat, or not to cheat. The smartest person in the class sat next to me, and, I'm sure that he wouldn't mind, nor notice. He slept as a freaking log with his test finished and flipped over.

* * *

><p><span>Nara Shikamaru: <span>Resident lazy-ass though proclaimed and proven genius. Dark hair eternally stretched into a high ponytail. Aged seventeen.

Yamanaka Ino: Blonde cheer captain known for her mysterious attachment to those housed on lower ends of the social food chain. Secret has it she was once best friends with the lot of them. Two-faced bitch. 17.

* * *

><p>I bit my lip, a surge of morals waving over me. I didn't want to cheat on this test, but I wasn't motivated to fail so blatantly either. Staying in these classes were both a curse and a blessing. Making it into them was the blessing, being booted out…<p>

I raked a hand through my hair. I shouldn't even be in this stupid situation right now. I know what I'm doing. This is easy. It is _math_. I sat through each class with pen readily scribbling each word the Professor spoke. I knew what I was doing, and I should know now. What's the difference? Wording?

Reading the first question, I discovered that it wasn't the words. I've completely fooled myself.

The only reason why I'm in here is to look at Sasuke longingly every so often, sketch a picture of him into my notebook from varying angles, and pretend that I had been writing notes.

* * *

><p><span>Hatake Kakashi: <span>Late-twenties. Perverted boarding school professor known for both his tardiness and gravity defying silver hair, along with a certain book series he is always reading. He has a mask that covers most of his face, except for one lonely gray eye.

* * *

><p>Suddenly, a piece of light pink paper plodded onto my desk, folded in the shape of a tiny paper crane, neat and crisply folded. A tiny heart was in the corner of one wing. The noise, so loud to my own ears, had me tense in anticipation. Half of the class must have heard it as well. My eyes scanned the room. Pencils scratched on the white paper, erasers eliminated all means of mistake, and buttons on calculators were furiously punched. <em><br>_My shoulders slumped some in relaxation, turning in the general direction of which the paper derived. The tanned skin of a certain Yamanaka Ino seemed to glow, her eyes shifting over to mine in knowing. One fair eyebrow quirked upward before she returned to her own test. I sighed before turning back around, only to see that my little crane had disappeared.

_Odd, _I thought, looking for the pink sheet.

Eventually, I decided that it must've been a mistake that the note was passed onto my desk.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter One<strong>_

_The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly_

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><p>The bells rang loudly and with them, I saw my life flushing down the toilets of success. So much for all the 4.0 GPA perfect years, goodbye to the twenty-dollar bills that came with the 100 percents on tests, quizzes, assessments. Forever I will remember the day when the rewards of lavish items such as money, clothes, shoes, and <em>money<em> left me because I received no more than a five percent—as in five points earned out of a possible 100—on an AP entry exam for my senior year in high school. I wanted to walk over to a corner and bang my head against the dry wall repeatedly until either I fell out or blood dripped from my forehead, soaked into my bangs, turning my cherry hair strawberry red. Both seemed equally enjoyable.

"How'd you do, Strawberry Shortcake?"

* * *

><p><span>Yukabushi TenTen: <span>A cheery new girl from Taiwan, who is always sporting twin buns on either side of her head, and always has changing pet names for every one of her friends. Seventeen.

* * *

><p>I imagined myself looking as if I just gave birth, a cold sweat damp on my face, eyes tired, limbs limp, and mind disoriented as I awaited my baby. Seeing as I'm not getting a baby—and if that test was any sort of twisted metaphorical baby it is mentally and physically retarded, missing ten toes and one eyeball is where the nose should be, and the nose is at the belly button—I just looked ridiculous in my mind's eye.<br>TenTen's face, a disgusted pout, assured me of my appearance. She plopped a hand on my head and shook it. "That bad, huh?"

The girl was from Taiwan and whenever she got upset her eyes did a weird thing wherein they looked like almonds—which all Taiwanese eyes resemble, ultimately—and someone who didn't really know how to crack them open has crushed them into nonentity. She looked like she was trying to suppress laughter, vomit, smugness, and pity for how horribly my face showed I had done with just a look. Her eyes erased all the conflicting emotion with a blink, as she seemed to decide on pity, for the time being.

She pouts her lip again and says ruefully, "I passed. But, I mean, who care that I passed, Sakura-chan? This is about you…and I mean," she gave me another once over and sighed, ruffling my hair again. "Maybe you shouldn't have skipped out on studying last night."

So this is what it feels like to be a lost cause idiot child. I knocked her hand away with a light slap, crossing my arms as I made a sharp turn toward the doorway.

"Maybe I shouldn't have signed up for the class just to stare at Uchiha Sasuke longingly," I allow, gesturing for her to follow as we make our way through the hallway traffic. Hundreds of students—or so it seems—mill around, talk while leaning against lockers, gossip, or just form groups in the middle of the walkway to annoy people who are actually trying to get places. "Excuse me," I grumble, elbowing a hefty looking football player, judging by the fancy letters on his jacket (or even the out-of-code, non-uniform, letterman jacket and the fact that he's standing next to a security guard and not being asked to remove it, save it for Friday, son) and he sneers at me.

I sneer back, far too pissed for pleasantries. "Excuse me," I repeat, venom laced in each syllable.

TenTen squeals from behind me and grasps my arm, pulling me back. Reluctantly, I let her pull me, and I take in the feeling of adrenaline flushing out of me. Anger still boils in my veins, but considering the security personnel now suddenly interested in me, I give it up. The blood still boils, but I shake my head and pull myself out of TenTen's grasp. I stalk up to the meat chunk, who honestly thinks he has won, and decide that spitting on the dick-face's shoe will change his mind. He exaggerates shock and pulls into his jock friends, exclaiming about how those were expensive and new. Blah, blah, blah…go get a tissue and wipe it off.

Despite the plethora of powerful, prideful emotion—of which I was sure would never return after that sad excuse of a test—I beeline toward the lifts before he decides to wipe me off the face of the Earth.

"Okay," TenTen says, trying to catch up with me as I storm toward the elevators. She just reaches the doors as they begin to close and slides in narrowly. I slump down against the wall of the elevator, more than happy that it's just me and my roommate inhabiting the square box. I work off my uniform shoes and start pulling off long knee-high socks. "What was that about?" She asks.

I fish through my purse and pull out a pair of jeans. "Would you hit our floor, please?"

The ping of a button pushed in and the jerking of the elevator shocking itself to life assure me of the elevator's movement. Nobody else is getting in; I would just close the door before anyone else on any other floor tried to get in. We wait for elevator music to start in silence, too charged—well, I know I'm too charged—with emotion. I thought about what it'd be like telling my parents that I know I failed a test today during the nightly call. They would assure me that I was just psyching myself out; I always do well and there's no way I could fail a test so important, I'm too hard of a worker, determined. Then I would tell them that I only filled out my name on all the pages and wrote the number six down on problem one which asked for the sum of two numbers less than five, two apart, and adding to a number four more than the lesser. Well, that one's right, at least.

I only manage to stick one leg in my jeans before TenTen asks again. "Are you sure you're okay with the test?"

I groan. "Of course I'm not, TenTen. You know my parents will send me to their idea of what will shock me into reality, and you know where I'm from." The thought that she is the _only_ one who knows that floats heavily yet silently in the elevator, and with a clearing of my throat, it disappears. "I can't screw up and be sent to a public school from my hometown; I just can't, not my senior year."

The girl opens her mouth to reply but the resounding ding interrupting the usual instrumental jazz of elevator music sends both of our heads toward the doors. I laugh, "I guess I should put my pants on and get off the ground, shouldn't I?"

She giggles, offering a hand to help me stand. I take it quickly, and straighten myself just as the doors slide apart. "So then I was like, omigod, why do you have to be such an idiot?" I say, putting on my best 'I Attend This School Because Daddy Paid for Me' voice. For extra effect, I flip my hair and pop my hip, "She's such an idiot."

TenTen's eyebrow furrows slightly, but she takes a short glance at the person entering the lifts and catches on in record speed. "I know right, like," she scoffs, "I wish she would go to the guy who banged her brain out last week and take it back." Just when I think that the girl has finally caught grasp on how people gossip in Konoha, and what they say—particularly how they say the words—she spits out something utterly…deserving of a slap.

I fight the need to do just that once the intruder of our elevator party of two takes interest in our conversation. "Oh, are you talking about Ami?"

* * *

><p><span>Karin<span>: Redheaded gossip queen who loves the spill and takes it like a pill with every new dish about anyone. However, with that, her downfall is being known to have two personalities. Thick framed black glasses; seventeen years old.

* * *

><p>"Yeah," I said emptily, nodding my head while twirling my long pink hair with my index finger. I sent my green eyes toward TenTen sharply, reprimanding the girl for examining her fingernails. I snapped my fingers, "Aren't we talking about Ami, TenTen?"<p>

The girl raised a brow and met my eye, then looked across the elevator toward the vermillion eyes of Karin, studying her actions carefully. "Who's Ami?" She whispered, earning her a harsh look. I tightened my lips and grumbled lowly. She slapped her hands to her cheeks in sudden realization. "Oh," she exclaimed with a wide mouth. "Yeah, totally, we're talking about Ami! The one with the weird colored hair that's totally unnatural?"

My hair is bubblegum pink.

Karin's is fire truck red.

TenTen seems to notice this misstep and scratches the side of one of her buns, "Oops."

Both Karin and I grunt in repugnance. We share a glance, shocked that we did that together at the same time, and consider the fact that we never really associated before. I see her scratching her brain as to way she's even talking to me now, since all obvious factors—bright green eyes, maybe, perhaps my large forehead, or that I'm the only girl with naturally pink hair attending the school—point to me being that kid in her World History class in the front row, studiously taking notes and only speaking to ask the sensei a question.

She scoots up her glasses to break the tension, giving up on the fight in her mind between talking to a nerd and getting the gossip. When she asks, "So, what'd you hear?" I know that she decided getting the latest was more important than talking to the losers. TenTen and I release a held breath and I smile, ready to get what I need.

"Well…I heard that she—,"

"Sakura! She said that you shouldn't—,"

"I know, TenTen, but, she asked, and it's not like Ami will necessarily know _we _were the ones who told."

"True, but we still told her we wouldn't."

Karin follows our banter like a moth drawn to a flame, a mouse hungry for cheese, walking right into the trap. She tucks her hair behind her ears and looks around the elevator, supposedly for cameras. After declaring the area clear of anything she is about to say, she releases a short breath that made her face deflate like a balloon being popped quickly. "What do I have to tell you to get you to tell me what you got?"

The elevator reaches our floor with a ding just as the light bulbs above me and my best friend's heads go off. I grin.

Hook line and sinker.

* * *

><p><span>Uzumaki Naruto<span>: Blonde energy shell wrapped in an orange coating of sugary excited happiness, loud and somewhat obnoxious. His blue eyes highlight youthfulness though he is almost seventeen. Pizza deliveryman with his best friend, _Uchiha Sasuke_

* * *

><p>A certain Uzumaki Naruto stared at his computer screen in utter confusion. What did they mean he used all of his login attempts and couldn't sign into the school social network until the next three days? He couldn't grasp the idea. Three days? Three days without seeing what everyone was doing, posting what he was doing, and creeping on people pages without their knowledge? What would he do with his life!<p>

He slurped a forkful of ramen, eyes still trained on the home page. Basic school announcements lined one side while events lined the other. Normally, everything that was school related would be smashed into one corner while all the events he was invited to filled the rest of his page, friend requests taking over the rest of his wall. Now, stupid reminders about final exams and book returns needing to be turned in before the last day of school were highlighted and capitalized.

Naruto swallowed thickly, enjoying the broth, and as the warmth of the deliciously flavored liquid slid down his esophagus, the information registered. Today was the last day of school, and examining his desk; all seven of his classroom books lay stacked unevenly and with papers crammed into the pages. "Ah, crap," he muttered, slamming his laptop closed and running past the dorm room mirrored closet to his bed to get his jacket, slung over the headboard. He reached for the jacket, and from the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Pajamas—he was wearing his orange and blue plaid pant pajamas with a gray school baseball practice t-shirt that he mostly forgot to take off before jumping in his bed in exhaustion. He raised his arm and risked a sniff. His nose burned immediately. _Definitely forgot to shower, too_, he thought, scrunching his nose. Naruto dumped his jacket on his desk again and paced toward the bathroom. Sasuke always had a new bottle of Axe that he always had in his bathroom drawer. It remained unused because, Naruto liked to think, nothing could mask the smell of bastard. There was no point of spraying the Emergency Smell Good in a bottle for him.

The blond teen cruised into the bathroom, cool tile sending shivers up his spine, and moseyed comfortably to the drawer closest to the shower, opening it as if it were his own. The organization of the drawer always amazed him, and left him staring at the organized row of toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, razor—as if the bastard needed that—and…Axe. Naruto grabbed the small container and freely sprayed himself with the forest-like scent across the chest. For fun, he lifted the cologne above his head, made a halo and let the mist fall all around him, it settling in the air. "I smell like a Tarzan," he observed, looking at the name of the scent for further knowledge. "I like it."

He considered changing his pants but decided against it, eyeing his watch. The Student Resource Center would be closing in forty-five minutes and, even though his father was once the principal of the school, he got no excuses or freebies. If he didn't pay his student bill for lunches he never paid for or return library books in time, he could expect a rather large sum to pay at the end of the year. With his jacket now swung around his shoulders and moccasins adorning his feet, he prepared himself for gripping all of his class books.

His biceps bulged and lungs tightened at the sudden unexpected weight, but he adjusted quickly, striding the small distance from his desk to the front door of the dorm. Naruto surveyed his full hands and the necessary tool of hand to twist the handle open. "Are you serious?" He grumbled. Not wanting to have to bend down and drop the books, which would probably make him tip over anyway, he bit his lip in concentration and balanced himself on one foot, lifting the other toward the door handle. The moment his foot made contact with the cool metal, the wood slung open rammed into his groin.

"Oi!" He screamed, falling to the ground quickly, clutching his manhood. All of his books, homework, assignments, and essays went flying. He felt tears swell in his eyes but held them back with determination as he looked up toward the untimely enterer. "I hate you, Sasuke-teme," he growled.

Sasuke looked downward at the mess of pajama, t-shirt, and messy hair and snorted, stepping over him. "I'd be concerned if you felt the opposite way, dobe," he mumbled, crawling into his perfectly made bed. The television clicked on seconds later, blaring the sounds and music of a sports station.

Naruto tumbled up from the ground. "How come you didn't wake me up? Today was finals and you knew it."

Smokey eyes glazed over his friend, "Oh, so that's why you're still in your pajamas." His nose crunched seconds later. "Why do you smell like forest dung?"

"No reason," the boy answered quickly, beginning to pick up his books in order to hide his face, which was, in no doubt, going to give him away. He could feel the lying tell of a smile begging to spread across his tanned face. "But you do know if I have to stay during the break to test you're going to have to stay so I'm not alone in the dorm building."

The dark-haired teen had no reason to look toward Naruto to see his slightly pouty face, begging him to stay with him. Though Sasuke knew Naruto knew that he wouldn't truly be alone—plenty of people preferred to skip finals day and get extra studying time, only needing to pay a fee for some adult to sit in the room and watch them take the test—he had a feeling that it was more to Naruto than being alone. It was being alone in the school that his father once owned, by yourself, with no one who honestly meant anything to you, to stop you from wallowing in thoughts you'd rather avoid. Sasuke understood that all too well. He breathed an, "Aa," before focusing his attention back at the television.

Naruto did a little celebratory dance across the room, landing at his bed. Sasuke smirked lightly, watching the completely uncoordinated, sporadic movements with light humor.

"So how were the tests anyway? I heard Math was an ass," he said absently, plopping his books into a spare athletic bag he found underneath his bed. He forced the drawstrings apart so the bag drew closer at the top, sealing the bag. Sasuke turned up the volume of the television, ignoring Naruto. "Well, you're an ass. I'm going to return my books."

Sasuke snorted. "Try not to come back."

"Try to grow some balls, you might need them, you gay, asexual piece of crap!"

* * *

><p>TenTen and I sat against the dusty shelves of the library, the ridges of books providing an interesting surface for our backs. My legs were tucked to my chest as a book balanced atop my knees. "Who do you think A is?" I ask TenTen.<p>

Rather than be immersed in the television series like the majority of the student population, we stayed safe with The Pretty Little Liar series of books. When time for answering lasted longer than usual, I glanced up from my page and saw her turned around, back twisted, peering through a whole in the books, where a novel once lived. Surely, her honey brown eyes were widened in fascination at whatever had caught her attention this time, and I slapped my book closed, stacking it atop the others that I had gathered.

"What is it?" I asked her, shouldering her softly. She made a small noise before scooting over some, allowing my green eye to fill the small rectangle of space along with hers. Her voice lowered to a volume something almost foreign to her, even in the library. "It's a 'who', Cherry Stem. He's sitting at the table closest to the door."

Almost wanting to tap her head into the bookcases for calling me a cherry stem—of all things—I became distracted with the two letters forming the short word 'he' that followed the annoying name. I was instantly interested and scanned all the circular, rectangular, and markedly empty tables. I scanned the small area nearest the entrance of the library three times. A few people read and studied for final exams they had yet to taken, though the only test that professors scheduled during after regular school hours was, like, Insect Study or something odd like that. Based on the stragglers in the library, I could see…my mouth dropped upon landing upon a particular reader.

I whip TenTen away from her staring. "That's Hyuuga Neji!" I yell whisper, my green eyes wide. Neji was not only one of—if not the—finest specimen in our grade level. Seniors wanted him, Freshmen had dreams about getting him, and Sophomores, those frisky little devilish things, actually had tried. None had success in their endeavors, and some could say that the prodigy's parents had something to do with it, if not his intimidating beauty. The only who rivaled his attractiveness was none other than Uchiha Sasuke—insert swoon—and the situation was all but the same.

She doesn't turn her face away from her little spying hole to reply to my outburst with an absent, "I don't care who he is as long as he isn't gay…"

"Well, at this point, some people are beginning to question that," I mutter, standing up.

TenTen shoots upward quickly, following me with concerned eyes. "What was that, Sakura-chan?"

I balance my array of books easily in the curve of my waist, and give my friend a grin far too innocent. "I'm just kidding, TenTen. He hasn't had a girlfriend since Ino declared in the third grade that he belonged to her and then dumped him when he refused to share his fruit snacks."

Recalling the memory brings a smile to my face, and surely lights it up, truly a distraction from the looming thought of my test. Book reading, gossip catching, and quarterback-shoe-spitting hardly worked as well as remembering the times when I could actually say that I knew the people that everyone else admired. I was probably friends with the lot of them not that that fact could find admittance without a noose and gun pointed toward them threateningly. I see TenTen raise a brow at my expression, but I wave it away as I put away the books I'd finished. "I'm sure you'd be able to hook him," I turn and look at her, smiling, "You're persistent enough."

Her face scrunches and she crosses her arms. "I don't like him, Red Beet," I pay no acknowledgement short of a grumble at that nickname; "I was just wondering what type of shampoo he uses."

We walk toward the checkout desk. I laugh lightly at her statement, "Sure, TenTen."

She jumps ahead of me and exclaims, "Surely as the sky is blue and that birds sing, too." She skips backwards, expertly maneuvering through the tables and small shelves. I laugh when she narrowly avoids a group of people, too busy in exchanging numbers for the summer to notice a crazy Taiwanese girl walking around backwards. Her ability to move so graceful and with such ease makes me wonder lightly what exactly she does in her free time, but I brush the idea away.

The child was heading straight into Neji's table, where his cup of coffee is _way_ close to the edge of the table. I barely have the time to reach out for her hand before her butt bumps the table. A loud gasp from somewhere on the other side of the library seems to suck out all of the oxygen in the room, and I watch the small Starbucks cup slide off the mahogany furniture. The brunette girl turns with a ballerina's beauty on the ball of her feet, her hands slapping over her mouth in sheer shock as her widened as take in the sight.

Neji Hyuuga. Wearing the uniform stark white button down shirt. With a brown coffee stain decorating the midsection in a warm, mocha, steaming brown color.

"Oh my Kami, I am so sorry!"

TenTen's shout snaps time back into shape like an elastic band and I plop all of my books onto the prodigy's table, skittering over to the librarian. She seems oblivious—or uncaring—to the fact that half the empty library is now talking about Neji getting coffee knocked on him by some weird girl with twin buns skipping around backwards. In no time will the news reach the long line winding into the library from Student Resources, where people that actually care about things that happen to the Hyuuga are standing.

I grin at the woman. "Hi," I greet.

She stamps a book with a red LATE stamp. "What do you want," she says between chomps of gum. The librarian is a little more heavyset, a huge bee's nest of graying black hair sitting atop her head. Stereotypical pointed glasses sit at the bridge of her nose, beads colored to look like beads looped around her neck. If she chews the gum any harder, I'm sure her dentures will topple out of her mouth.

Feeling as if she'd return to her meticulous stamping if I don't stop my staring, I spit out, "I spilled some coffee. Well, my friend spilled some coffee—"

"There're paper towels in the bathroom."

I grin for the sake of being polite, though I think of choking her with her 'pearl' chain. "I know that, ma'am."

"Then why are you over here telling me you spilled?" The stamp pounds on another book. "Go handle it, you're a big girl."

My patience withers to nothing but a grain of sand. "My friend spilled freshly brewed coffee from Starbucks on some hot guy's chest and if he isn't burned, he is probably burn_ing_ and said hot guy was wearing his uniform shirt so something more than those crappy excuses of paper towels that do nothing more than make your hands less damp when they're supposed to dry them all the way!"

To be honest, I have no idea how I got from being angry with the librarian to being concerned about the likely possibility of Neji's burning chest and jumping toward my feelings that our school's paper towels dug up. "So, I would be very kind if you supply me with ice and a cloth. The nurse has already left, yes?"

I return less than ten minutes later, ice, washcloth, another school shirt and burn ointment—which I didn't even ask for!—in hand. My eyes glue themselves to the awe that is that boy's body for thirty seconds until I realize that the two I left behind to get the materials to handle a mess I didn't get into are arguing vehemently.

"I'm not going to buy you another coffee," TenTen grumbles, throwing her hands about like she does whenever she's too angry for any other thing to contain her extreme emotion.

Neji rolls his milky eyes, "_You_ spilled it on _me_. Unless you want to be sued –"

"I should be the one suing you, jackass!"

"What'd you sue me for? You're idiocy?"

I can't help but turn my head back and forth, as spectators do in tennis matches, as the two volleyed with each other.

"You're the idiot who set your blazing hot coffee on the edge of a table!"

"Oh, and it's normal for people to skip around backwards in libraries?"

TenTen pauses shortly, and crosses her arms across her chest. She eyes him levelly, "Yes."

Before I can finish writing down both TenTen and our phone numbers, along with our dorm room address and telephone number, I'm dragging the girl away from Neji. If any fiber of me believed she would be nice to people she found attractive, she proved the idea ridiculous in fifteen straight minutes of her calling him some form of stupid in Taiwan's native language, English, Japanese, and Chinese. I leave Neji with the shirt, cloth, and ointment. "I'm sorry for her behavior," I apologize between yanking her clawing form away. "She's didn't take a nap."

* * *

><p>She's still furious when I work my thin, credit card shaped door key into a slot allotted for it with all the books in my hand. I kick the door open and waddle to my desk. My arms seem to sigh of release when I finally release the novels. My mind has numbed to TenTen's voice but snips of "He's so <em>arrogant<em>", "Who does he think he is calling dumb?" and "I'll show that pretty boy!" still break through a shield I'd built.

I look at our clock before plopping lifelessly onto my bed. Any minute now, it'd be nine thirty and my parents would be asking how my day was, and how my tests were. Did I pass? What classes did I sign up for next year? Would I be aiming toward more AP level? The constant light flashing on the receiver haunts me. Did my parents already leave a message?

I grab the phone sharply and press the button to listen to messages.

"You have one unheard message," a beep precedes a voice that makes my heart drop. It's nobody but my English teacher reminding me I still had to return my Shakespeare book. I hang up the phone with a limp noodle of a hand. Dealing with my parents would've been easier to do if they already called. Now I have to either force myself to ignore the ringing until it stopped, or answer the telephone. Both were equally difficult. I rake a hand through my hair and groan. Just then I realize how loud my groan actually was, and break out of my haze sharply.

TenTen stands awkwardly in front of our TV. "You weren't listening to anything I was saying, were you?"

"Sorry," I shrug, scooting over on my twin bed, which sends me even closer to the edge. She sits cross-legged and stares anticipating a reason. "I just have a lot on my mind. Not undermining the hilarity in your stint with Hyuuga _Neji_."

She feigns disgust, making a face that made her look like she just smelled fresh manure. "Don't say his name. It's blasphemy."

My lips split into a smile at her animated antics. Seconds later, the annoying _briiing _of the telephone makes my grin fall so fast that my cheeks run through a fit of minor pain. TenTen notices my jump and offers to answer it. I must've nodded because the only thing I could vaguely register was the huge knot forming in my throat. I probably wouldn't even be able to talk if the call was for me. I pray to every god discussed in World History that my parents somehow forget to call me for the nightly.

"Hello?" TenTen answers in a chipper tone.

I send my eyes toward her and ask the silent question my voice keeps me from asking.

She grimaces and shakes her head.

My praying hands fall. Screw it.

* * *

><p>AN: So...let me know what you all think about this! I don't know if I should continue or not, and this story should be a summer project. Do you like the length of the chapters? Let me know.

**Review Question For Cookies!: **Where does Sasuke work?

_hotoffthefryer_


	2. The Ugly Duckling

"A clever, ugly man, every now and then, is successful with the ladies, but a handsome fool is irresistible."

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><p><em>Ugly<em>

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><p>Never once in my life have I considered throwing a person out of a dormitory window, overhead and thrusting them into the open air to face whatever fate awaited them. I'm quite the peacemaker, believe it or not. Sure, I have a temper. A small, miniscule temper that takes thousands of little annoyances to awaken, but, alas, a temper is a temper. I realize that it is there. The first step toward acceptance is admission.<p>

"It was Lee," the tone in my voice can hardly account for a question, even though it was. I'm beyond irritated. Furious, even. TenTen hops off my bed and onto her own, already realizing that if she backs away from me now, she might have some life to live later. "You had me on the phone with Rock Lee for _an hour_!"

She swallows deeply, hands shaking as she reaches for the remote. "Sorry," she apologizes, "you know I don't check Caller ID and I thought it was your dad."

A vein pops. "Since when is it even close to right for a father to call his daughter the joy of his bubbling world of which he wishes to gently caress with the loving touch of a mother bear to her young cub in the looming half crescent moon that highlights her most youthful attributes?"

Unsure of how to reply to that, she shrugs.

"I have to _sleep_ with his slight vocal molestation _replaying _in my mind! I'll be dreaming of pretty bunnies and they'll turn green and start talking about youthfully reproducing beautiful rabbit children in the image of me! It's not a compliment when you know they mean it!"

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Two<strong>_

_The Ugly Duckling_

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><p>The sounds of wheels rolling on the soft carpet of the dorm building halls on our floor from outside the front door dusted at the corners of my dream. It was like that one reminder that that great dream you were having was just that—a dream. I held on to the fringes, balancing between reality and fantasy, barely registering the suitcases rolling just outside the doorway. This was my favorite part of the day: when you were aware that you were asleep, could feel yourself breathing, smell the breakfast cooking in the cafeteria, and with your eyes closed, it was as if you were actually <em>home<em>.

My eyes snapped open when three sharp knocks rapped at the door, ripping me from my sweet dream of the perfect childhood family and house. I lay in the bed for a few moments, not certain if the knock was on our door—or rather, hoping that I wouldn't have to swing my legs over the bed and trudge over to the doorway, thrust it open and scare the living daylights of whoever dared try to visit my dorm room before 11: 30 with my bed head and disheveled, slightly whorish pajamas—or if it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I glanced over at TenTen when the knocker punched the door again. She was all but unconscious, hair looped into a simple ponytail clasping her hair together in what would otherwise be a chocolate brown twisted mess. A stream of drool dribbled out of her lips as a soft snore resonated throughout our room.

The knocks grew nothing but impatient and I released a sharp breath. "I'm coming!" I yelled, stopping toward the door. Upon reaching it, I peered through a small crack I allowed. The sight of my mathematics teacher so early in the morning sporting loose-fit skinny jeans, a green plaid button up, and a gray jacket that I _swear _Inuzuka Kiba was wearing last month was a shocker. Seeing any teacher dressed casually was a slap in the face. These people did have lives outside Konoha Preparatory. However, that didn't mean they could dress as if they did more than…than grade papers. Kakashi had swag.

I blinked twice and let my mouth fall limp. Maybe I should run in, grab my camera, and take a picture of this.

"Yo," he greeted, dog-earing a page inside his infamous orange book. His hand inconspicuously hides the front cover graphics of the novel. He doesn't miss my eye trying to gain any hint toward what he could be trying to keep from me, and he clears his throat. I snap back to attention and reply, "Hi, Kakashi-sensei."

He shakes his head back and forth, disagreeing. "School's over."

"So?"

I find my patience with this man withering the longer we stand staring at each other. I lean against my doorframe, crossing my arms. "Are male teachers even allowed on girls' floors?" I ask, tilting my head thoughtfully.

Kakashi's eyes widen and he shifts on his heels. "I graded your test," he says, swiftly changing the subject.

A truck hits my face on in my mind's eye, my flesh splatters across the paved street, and my blood makes weird squishy sounds as the tires roll across my body. I swallow and the image is gone, a smile replacing the blank look that must've inhabited my face. "Finished already?"

"You only answered one question," he deadpanned.

My face falls. "I know I failed, okay?" I seethed, my lack of sleep reaching me. He jumps slightly and I apologize, calming. I rubbed my eyes, of which are probably all red and puffy. I cried myself to sleep from both anxiety and Lee's odd phone call. I hardly recall even giving him my phone number. Before an argument sprouts in my mind, I ask him, "Why'd you have to come all the way here just to tell me I only answered one question?"

"Some students would be grateful if I showed to their door with the offer of a retake on an AP level final exam," he said calmly, flipping a page in his novel. His eyes scanned the page slowly and just as I began to wonder if he forgot that he was talking to me, too lost in whatever mysteries the book held, his face split into a perverted smile. My eyebrow lifts. "But, yes, as I was saying…if you would like to retake your test to achieve a grade higher than three percent," I cringed, "I'll be seeing you in four days."

Before I could ask where and when I could meet him, the gray haired teacher was halfway down the hallway, a loud whistle following him. _Odd_, I thought, turning on the ball of my foot and into my dorm room, slightly—majorly—confused.

It was going to be an interesting day.

* * *

><p>"So when does your flight leave for Taiwan?"<p>

I ask TenTen, sipping from my small eight-ounce orange juice carton with a pink bendy straw. Any remains of my breakfast—hash browns, toast, and an omelet, sunny side up, a bacon smiley face and pepper freckles completing the face—are minimized to crumbs and small portions I didn't have enough space for. The breakfasts tasted markedly better during the two-week summer 'vacation' Konoha Preparatory offered. My stomach, full and happy, agreed wholly with me.

She tips her head back, finishing her fruity milk from her cereal. She licked her lips before answering, "Two days from now. I invited everyone over to our dorm room for a kind of going away party."

By everyone, she meant Shino, Shikamaru, if he even woke up during the summer break to do anything but release his tank, and I. A party was nothing more than drinking soda—of which we'd have to steal from the Faculty Lounge, probably the most exhilarating event the 'party' honestly had to offer— and playing video games about killing people.

Despite how excited I really am about the idea of the get-together, I grin. "Sounds fun; I'll be there."

"It's not like you really have a choice, Peach," she laughs, "we do kind of live together and the party is where we live. Unless you just don't show up, but you'll have to find somewhere else to sleep because we're pulling an _all-nighter_."

How daring.

I smash a grape from TenTen's bowl of fruit into my mouth before those words can exit my mouth. I shock myself with my attitude. Sure, I just got a three percent—my face convulses—on a test but that shouldn't make my whole attitude sour for the rest of my life. Or, just these ten minutes while I wait for TenTen to finish her breakfast. I swallow the grape roughly, "Scandalous," I giggle. "Shouldn't you sleep though, you know, to make up for time differences and whatever?"

She shrugs, "I'll be fine. Are you doing anything on these short fourteen days?"

Just then, the cafeteria doors slap against the walls, and all heads—of the stranglers eating breakfast at eleven, anyway—snap toward the shockingly loud noise, contrasting the murmur of lunchroom chatter so starkly. I hardly register TenTen's question when my eyes zero in on the two latecomers like a moth drawn to fire.

My heart thumps harder in my chest as I consider my options. To stay or not to stay? To be seen immediately because, not only do I have pink hair, but I am also seated in the middle of the cafeteria, on the raised platform normally reserved for the popular kids, or to quickly swipe the hood of my jacket over my head? They'll notice me quickly because of my seat either way, and nobody wears hooded jackets in August. It's not even cold in the lunchroom today. I surely stick out like a sore thumb.

The two start walking, steps echoing loudly in the silenced eatery. I decide on combining both options and yanking the hood of my jacket up quickly and scooting closer to the exit doors. TenTen, too immersed in counting how many kinds of each fruit she has, doesn't notice me making my escape.

"We need to get out of here," I tell TenTen with a sense of sudden urgency.

She is half way between popping a cherry in her mouth. "What'cha mean, Sakura? I'm not done ea—"

I yank her by her arm downward, hiding underneath on of the circular tables. Later I'll realize how idiotic this was because TenTen squeals, screams and yelps quite a lot, and our tables don't have tablecloths that hide whatever's under them. I just casted attention onto myself, while trying to do just the opposite of that. "We're leaving now," I say again.

TenTen pouts, "I'm not done though."

"I don't care; we are leaving! There's fruit to eat at lunch!"

Our conversation goes back and forth underneath the table until heel clicks grow increasingly louder, stepping onto the metal stairs that lead to the raised platform where we were hiding. The sound of the clicks muted when they reached carpet. I looked down. We're on carpet—admittedly clean carpet considering people eat like pigs.

My heart does a somersault into my throat and I make a sound that must've been reminiscent of our animalistic stages in human evolution; you know the sound animals make before their sure of sudden death. The two pairs of heeled feet stop just yards away from our table. I am certain we've been spotted and my little idea of 'Let us hide under the table!' will only get me more embarrassed than sitting at their table would've in the first place. TenTen finally catches onto the idea that silence is key and stops asking me why we're hiding in hushed whispers. The entire cafeteria is silent.

I stop breathing and close my eyes.

"Why don't we eat on the lower level today, Ami?" A familiar voice suggests, sounding too sweet in her gesture to mean it honestly. My heart stops pounding in my chest, not returning to normality, but freezing. What was she doing? "They cleaned the carpet so well for the summer. I know _I _don't want to ruin the hard work of the janitorial staff. They already do so much, you know?"

I can't work up the bravery to open my eyes and glance upward, through the bench to see the expression Watanabe Ami was making at her friend's offer. The time slows when my heartbeat decides to return languidly. I blink twice—and time returns to normal. "Alright," Ami says in her slightly nasal voice. She seemed to have been considering why her companion wanted so suddenly to eat somewhere else, after they had already climbed the steps and made their entrance, but she decides, "We'll sit somewhere else, Yamanaka."

I release a tattered breath that I didn't know I was holding when I hear them walking away. "Let's go," I suggest to TenTen, who is sporting her most confused confused face. She nods, too concerned of my expression—probably ghost faced, pasty, and shaken—to speak any words. When the normal lunch chatter returns, we exit swiftly, the red doors leading back to the hallways swinging silently with our force.

* * *

><p>The Haruno household sat on the border of Konoha—a lively, boisterous, pleasant town full of positive people, influence, and quality of life—and a country called Sound—just the opposite of the pleasantries Konoha had to offer. Seeing as they were quite wealthy, they could afford the houses closer to the Konoha side of the border; big, extravagant houses that were all the same save for brick color, cars in the driveway, flowers decorating the gardens, and lawn ornaments. They considered themselves quite lucky to have Konoha's government consider them as part of the better of the two cities when the border was right across their backyard.<p>

It was quite the scenario of 'Over the Train Tracks'. On one side of the railroad, they didn't have to fear for their lives on every turn down the street. On the other side, they could speak to neighbors and invite them into their home without worry of anything expensive—among jewelry, antique vases, and plainly money—being stolen. To hop over their own white picket fence was like submerging yourself into a forest of gray, dying, and ghastly trees, seeming to reach for souls and bodies to pull them into their abyss. Outside they're front door, beautiful green maple, oak, and friendly pine trees grew, bringing a smile to any nature lover's face.

The young couple lavished in their good fortune to have Konoha ahead of them, but feared of the mysterious forests of Sound inhabiting their backyard.

When they had a daughter, their first and only, a girl they named after a blossom tree blooming outside of the hospital she was born in, they were even more excited and grateful to the country hidden in the leaves. Their daughter would be safe. Little Sakura was safe, extremely even, until she began growing in her curious state. She wanted to know why she couldn't play on the train tracks. "Trains never go by, Daddy," she would say. Her father knew it was true. Trains didn't pass on the tracks, especially near their house. What feared him was that the girl knew of the railroad. It was quite a hike away from their picketed backyard, of which Sakura was limited to stay inside of at all times.

He struggled to give the four-year old a reason as to why she couldn't go play on them that wouldn't make her as scared as they were everyday and every night. Finally, he settled upon, "Bad people play on the tracks. They're not like us, they're not from Konoha and we can't trust them."

Sakura did the most youthful thing and asked, "Why?" Because to her and for all she knew, everyone was from Konoha.

"They're from a bad place, and a bad like the people in your storybooks."

Though the girl nodded, agreeing to never venture over to the tracks again, saying that the place was as bad as the places in her storybooks only enticed her curiosity more. There was no way she was going to stay away from it now.

* * *

><p>Haruno Satoshi rubbed a raised scar on his forearm absently, feeling where the doctors could've performed much better stitches with the touch only a seasoned doctor could sense. He was leaned back in his recliner, enjoying the laziness a Saturday morning surfaced. A newspaper was folded beside him on a coffee table, untouched and still in its protective plastic cover, light splashes of water on the exterior. Expectedly, it had drizzled, as always it did in the morning hours in their area of living.<p>

The scar reminded him why they pushed their daughter so hard to stay in school with excellent grades. Especially with things getting down to the wire—she approaching her senior year—how she performed in school was of upmost importance.

"Dear," his wife, Haruno Rei called from inside the kitchen. He turned his head turned to the sound, snapping quickly out of a reverie, a deal he had made with the governor of Sound to keep Sakura inside of Konoha always replaying in his mind. The smells of breakfast, however, filled his nostrils and reminded him that his precious daughter was safe, and that he was at home, not in those treacherous forests protecting the two most important girls in his life.

Satoshi cleared his throat, "Yes, honey?"

"Breakfast is ready," she replied.

Minutes later they were both at the table, small and rectangular compared to the grand table that once inhabited the kitchen. It was in the attic until it found some use beside taking up space unnecessary, seeing as it would always be the two of them only at the table eating. Satoshi brought the glass of orange juice to his lips, "Did you call Sakura last night, Rei-chan?"

The woman paused in cutting her pancakes and grinned. The act warmed her husband's chest immediately, and his green eyes couldn't hide the compassion he felt for his wife. She blushed, easily embarrassed. "Um, no," she answered, pouring syrup, "I figured she would be tired after her finals and decided to give her a break." She eyed the way he seemed to tense, and her red eyebrows furrowed together. "Should I have called? I really do wonder why you're so strict on knowing what she's doing sometimes; we get weekly progress reports."

He lied, "I just like hearing her voice, is all."

Rei smiled warmly, "How cute," and continued with her breakfast, filling the otherwise empty tension with pointless chatter and gossip that floated in the subdivision. Satoshi was silent, as he always was, only filling in his opinion upon questioning. When all that remained on his plate was a single square of French toast, he interrupted the woman's banter.

"I'm going to call Sakura," he said, adding a small smile, "it feels weird being off schedule when we've been so reliable about calling her everyday."

_No_, he thought. He was making sure she was doing so well that the teachers, school board, and advisors found no need to look into her papers. He wanted to be assured that her performances on standardized tests and finals were so spectacular that Konoha Preparatory wouldn't think twice on whether she should be attending their school or not. She was smart, so smart that her scores gave the funds more money; getting rid of her would be unbeneficial toward them. It would keep her away from Orochimaru's slithery claws.

* * *

><p>"Kurenai-sensei," I called, knocking on the Foods teacher's door. When I received no response, I pushed the door open lightly. The air conditioner was loud, turned up high, probably to counter the heat the ovens brought to the room. Now, though, the cold breezes of air sent immediate goose bumps to my skin. I wished I hadn't dumped my jacket in the dorm just in case someone had spotted me from the lunchroom and asked where I went, and why I 'disappeared'. Now I felt like an idiot, because a jacket wouldn't be my identifying trait, and it was about fifty degrees Fahrenheit in the classroom.<p>

I hug myself in hopes to warm myself up, and walk awkwardly through the desks. It was so weird being in a classroom without the teacher directly ahead of you, in sights. The feeling that I was invading someone else's territory swam over me, and I considered exiting the room and coming back later. Maybe Kurenai had left out to perform some sort of errand, and she would return soon. That would explain why her door was unlocked.

A suppressed moan whips my head toward the supply room, in the back corner of the Foods class. My breath hitches in my throat, along with a 'caught red handed' type of blush. "Um, Kurenai-sensei?" I saw cautiously, looking behind me as I step ahead, closer to the supply room. Somebody was in there…doing…stuff. The type of giddiness I haven't felt in a long time invades my body.

I creep closer to the cracked door and the little moans grow louder. I fight a giggle. This is so funny; everybody knows that making out in the supply closet is the most overdone thing in the world. I pop my pink head into the door and immediately pull out, my face blanching. "Ku-Ku-Ku-Kurenai-sensei what the—" _No F-Bombs, she's still a teacher_, "—what are you doing?"

The woman peels away quickly from one of the school's history teachers, the two of them readjusting clothes and fiddling with their hair, trying to hide the fact that they were two steps away from…my mind refuses to even grasp the idea. "Oh, Sakura, hi," Kurenai says airily, as if—psh she is—she was out of breath. She walks away from the man with one flirtatious look and wave, leading me out of the supply room, pushing me softly out, clicking the door behind us. "What is it?"

Way to avoid my question, you teacher whore!

"I was wondering if I could use your room to bake a cake," I say, trying to avoid looking at her as she buttons her shirt back up correctly. A red, lacy bra peeks out, and, to be completely honest, that's all I wish to see of any woman, let alone my teacher. Instead, I look just beyond her, focusing on a tree outside her window. "My friend is having a going-away party."

She grins, brown eyes that gleam red in the light glittering. I can't help but wonder if she's honestly that happy that I want to bake a cake and am asking to use her room out of all the other options, or that her little boy toy really pleased her that much.

Whoa, there, Sakura—perverted thoughts about teachers?

I shudder.

"Sure, you can use my room," she reaches under her desk and pulls a key from underneath it. I assume it's taped—or maybe just a super awesome gravity defying key thingy!—and places it in my palm. "Here's the key. Look it on your way out, please."

Did she just boot me out so she could continue making out?

…

I do believe so.

* * *

><p>It's almost scary how empty the hallways are during the two-week break. Okay, I admit it, I know that it's a short break and if I could afford to fly off to some extravagant place or had a car—no, I don't have a stupid car and it pisses me off every time someone makes me think of it—to drive, at least, to the downtown area, I totally would ditch school. I mean, come on, it's two weeks. Fourteen days to get your tanning, beach days, partying, and pointless drinkingsmoking/sexing done, and it's not as if you can stretch your days that far.

Inside the school, you're subject to sleeping your days away (like Shikamaru), homing it in the library (because that's wear all the _cool_ people hang out, read: me), and eating your current weight in 'healthy'—they lie—food in the cafeteria (Choji has perfected this to a science). Most people choose to stay at the school and use the dormitories to sleep, shower, and lounge without charge coming out of their pockets. This, something I really would not admit unless my life was on the line, is actually very smart, because hotels in the general area of Konoha Prep are out-of-this-world expensive. The Populars™ choose this option if they couldn't plan in a vacation in all their wonderful party-filled lives.

My feet kind of lead me in circles around the main building of the school. English, Math and some Science classes are in this building, along with the library and TenTen and my dorm building. Rightfully so, it's the largest stature of the school, and what most people think of when someone says that they attend Konoha Preparatory. Right now, I'm circling the Math wing, hoping somehow that walking multiple times through here will bring Kakashi-sensei to his room. After the thirteenth time of passing the closed, maple wood door, I stop in front of it, noticing a note on the front.

I step up to it and read.

**To Those Students who Wish to Retake the AP Geometry Final**

_Hello, it's your teacher, Kakashi_

_I realize that four days to study for something you failed miserably is quite difficult to do. However much I want to tell you that you got yourself into this mess, dig your way out, the School Board requires all teachers offering retakes to provide resources to help those students pass to their highest potential. Since I need this job to pay rent, I found some people to help you for me. They passed the final with flying colors, unlike you. I told them to be in the library from three to seven. _

_Don't fail again._

Normally I would cry after seeing the word fail and realizing that I was the one who failed—not some idiot that I can point and laugh at—but crying is for babies. I rip the note from the door and start balling it up, crumpling the perfectly messy handwriting of Kakashi-sensei. "I didn't fail," I mutter, starting to rip the computer paper, "You failed because you're the freaking teacher and you couldn't teach me how not to fail you perverted dumb idiot ugly face."

When the paper falls down to the ground in snowflakes, I realize how pointless that was. Sure, I'm not pissed anymore, but that leaves more room for sadness. Stupid tears start to well in my eyes and I kick the door, releasing one last bit of frustrated energy. The only reason I took the test was to look at gorgeous Uchiha Sasuke and, I kicked the door again, I didn't even _talk _to him save for asking for a pencil or something dumb like that.

"You're going to jam your toe."

I flip around so fast that I feel my hair slap against the wall behind me. Standing before me is none other than Uzumaki Naruto.

A clog forms in my throat from shock, even embarrassment, but that falls quickly when he smiles. "Just kidding! You should join soccer though," he laughs, "that's crazy how hard you were kicking the door."

I follow his eye and look at the door. The nice reddish finish covering the wood has been chipped off, and multiple dents curve the otherwise flat door. I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly. "Thanks, I guess. Maybe I'll try out."

An awkward silence develops as I stare at him, staring at me, his blue eyes big and gorgeous. He isn't half bad looking at all, with the blonde, purposefully messy hair, tan skin, great smile, and athletic build going on. I heard he was hilarious to be around, too. I wonder what he thinks of me, since eyes just don't roam up and down bodies without thought, and become uncomfortable. A cricket cries from somewhere far off down the hall, and successfully breaks the silence.

"I'm Naruto," He says, sticking out a hand.

The whiteness of his teeth almost send me off, like, he _must've _had braces, but I smile back, taking the hand. "I know who you are," I say, furrowing my brow, "We've had at least one class together since the fourth grade." How much does that say about me?

A blank look inhabits his face, as if he didn't know that I was always in his class until I pointed it out and he realized that I was right, and he clears his throat. "Right, I knew that. So, could I ask why a pretty girl like you would be moseying around these parts of town?"

Insert awkward moment wherein you know someone is flirting with you.

My face begins to match my hair at the thought, the thought that someone like _Naruto_ would talk to me. Maybe I did something different that attracted popular kids. That would explain a lot. Before I can decide if I enjoy the attention or not, I grasp that I'm taking far too long to answer the question. I laugh, probably sounding like a wounded cow. "I, um," to tell him I failed the math test or not? His blue eyes shimmer the true meaning of honesty and I feel that if I lied to him, it'd be like lying to an innocent child. "I pretty much bombed this final and I'm retaking."

"You too?" Naruto exclaims, a smile taking over his face. A small grin quirks my lips but is turned into a shocked grimace when he envelopes me in a huge hug. "We have so much in common already! Come on, I'll walk you to the library."

Maybe I should consider failing more often.

* * *

><p>TenTen seems to be waiting for me when I finally return to our dorm. She takes one look at my dumb smile and runs over. "Who was it?" She asks, taking both my hands and guiding me to the beds. I sink into the cozy mattress. My heart is fluttering like a fully-grown caterpillar, spreading its wings for the first time and testing the waters excitedly. This has to be the most exhilarated I have ever felt during my whole entire high school career, save for when I pushed Karin down the stairs on accident.<p>

Not really. It's a dream but it'll be fulfilled.

I grin again and begin spilling. "So I was over by Kakashi-sensei's room and there was this note on his door," I conveniently skip the episode of near-tears and toddler like temper tantrums that include tearing paper, "and while I'm kicking the door, mad that the pervert won't open it so I can ask him a question, Naruto—though I don't know it's him—says 'Be careful, beautiful, you might jam your toe'."

"Aw!" TenTen exclaims. "What happened next?"

So, yes, I'm exaggerating and sprinkling in things that make the story more interesting. Shoot me; this doesn't happen often and there's no way in hell I'm going to make the retelling uneventful. I describe the walk to the library to TenTen as extremely humorous—as it was, thankyouverymuch—long, filled with lots of cute flirty things back and forth—as it was…sort of—and the best walk I've ever had to the library.

She giggles. "Do you like him?"

My face blanches as vomit dares to rise up my esophagus. "Ew, no, he's not my type," as if I have a type, I've been boyfriend-less for all seventeen years of my life, "but I admit it was fun having attention paid to you in that way. It makes you feel good."

"Doesn't Lee do that all the time?"

The pleasant, carefree vibe of the conversation drops like hot biscuits.

Thankfully, before I can think of an answer, the telephone rings. I squeal and reach for it, excited that Naruto couldn't wait to talk to me again. Did I really give him _that _good of a time? Excitement bubbles inside of me as I answer, "What's up, hot stuff?"

"Sakura, this is your father."

Awk. Ward.

* * *

><p>AN: The ball should start rolling after this. Sorry if it was boring or anything, I just had to introduce more people and conflicts for the first arc and the rest of the story. I hate that one chapter where you actually have to have legit stuff in it. That said, I'm surprised I wrote this in a day and a half. I'm proud of myself.

On another tangent, does anyone know of any good betas? I might need one for this story.

**Thanks for reviewing!:** _laylayuzumaki, 0.09.o.0, TheBloodyLoveOfSakuraHaruno, TeamTHEFT, _and_, Fox Alder_!

You all got the review question right, so…I have a harder one.

**Review Question: **What classroom number is Kakashi's?

Review!

~Fryer!


	3. You Can't Fix Ugly

"Beauty may be skin deep, but ugly goes clear to the bone."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ugly<strong>_

* * *

><p>Yamanaka Ino had this certain charm to her.<p>

It was her long, golden hair that found itself slicked perfectly into a high ponytail, always centered on her crown, decorated with colorful bands that matched her outfits with a perfect side bang that framed the left side of her face.

It was her porcelain skin, always as flawless and smooth as a newborn baby's skin, blemish and scar free, a pretty dash of blush across her cheeks, so natural looking that she seemed to glow. It was her lips, moisturized forever with watermelon flavored lip balm, an even coating of pink coral lip gloss adding shimmer and shine to the full, kissable skin.

It was her blue-as-the-sea-and-clear-as-the-sky eyes, sparkling with youth and mischievousness, something that enticed and intimidated those who wished to speak to her; the confidence portrayed by a simple glance sent in your direction from her made you want to smile back, made you want to wonder how you could become as liked, as socially popular, as feared among the lowerclassmen. How was it that sure eyes, no clouds of low self-esteem, could make someone else feel as strong for however the eyes were on them? How was it that those same eyes could make someone as feel weak in comparison to her strength?

It was because she had this certain charm to her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Three<strong>_

_You Can't Fix Ugly_

* * *

><p>I sat in the library, back against the comforting rows of books. Some would say that I was hiding, because honestly, in some sort of metaphorical way, I was. I was hiding from the fact that, eventually, my parents were going to be upset and give me some ultimatum—if I had in lower than a 3.67 GPA during any point of the year next year, they'd take me out of Konoha Prep.<p>

I knew that they were going to blow a casket throughout the whole day, but hearing them, hearing the _disappointment _in their voices instead of the sugarcoated versions I gave myself in dreams made me jump over the edge. I seriously disappointed my parents. That was the cold hard reality of it, and at this point, I had two choices.

I could continue to mope around, sneaking into the library from the window that I knew Mai-san left open in the summer for air circulation, sitting in the Mystery section and reading myself to sleep with a good Sherlock Holmes. Even with this being my first time in the library—deciding that answering TenTen's questions about why I looked like I was ready to completely destroy our dorm room telephone with my glistening eyes, wet from tears, were too hard to answer, and that the books were much better conversationalists—the idea pleased me. It'd be easy and simple. Sure, I'd have to explain why I was using paperback books as pillows and atlases A through Z as a bed when janitors started coming in, and then later librarians, and much later (if at all) when students started entering, but I preferred it to my second option.

It would be wiser, more mature, if I made a decision to do something positive with the ultimatum they gave me, and use it as a pushing force to keep me thinking forward and in the right mindset. To have a 3.67 GPA was to earn three solid Bs, two Bs and a B minus, two B minuses and a C. That was completely reachable—or avoidable. The only class that gave me problems is math, and possibly science during a boring topic matter.

Pressure, the pressure and the looming reminder that at any moment, _any given minute_, I could be plucked out of the school I attended since the sixth grade and placed into a new, most likely horrid, public school in Sound during my senior year would kill me. When I haven't completed everything that I wanted to achieve in high school, in this high school with the people I've been with since childhood, I would feel as if I left the book unfinished, a bookmark left in the pages but the cover closed and locked shut. I'd never have the chance to try and fulfill, because no matter what the sayings say about high school never ending, every chapter in life does end, and once you walk out of the auditorium, gym, or venue with a diploma in one hand and a cap with a turned tassel in the other, you've finished the novel—happy ending or not.

I blinked my eyes quickly, clearing my blurring eyes with haste. My hand rubbed at my teary eyes, liquid cooling my hot skin.

There was no reason to be considering both of the options. I knew which one I should do, without a doubt, and that was to push myself to do well in my classes, even the ones I didn't enjoy. Opportunities lay in front of me for reasons; Kakashi came to my door because he had to have seen that I am not the type of student or girl to settle for any less than my best. Maybe he did have to offer the retake to those who failed pitifully. That didn't waver my belief one bit, though. Perhaps I had to fail for a reason, to shake me out of my boots and make me realize that there are consequences for every action, and sometimes doing nothing is the worst action anyone can take.

I focused on the text on the page that remained unturned still, and tried to read, refocus my mind on something that wouldn't send me spiraling in a frenzy of emotions almost unknown to me. Teenagers disappointed their parents all of the time, some even strived to do just that, and in turn they either punished them or offered the promise of a punishment. That's how things go, and I shouldn't be surprised or shocked emotionless by my parent's feelings toward my performance.

The test has been taken and the best I could do now was do better on the retake.

This mantra was repeated in my mind as I read the totality of each page, chapter, and finally novel blankly. The words were being processed but not read through, so much so that I was hardly affected the way I normally was after discovering that it was actually the innocent looking neighbor who committed the murder. My mind drifted me into a sleep before my body realized that it was being shut down manually, exhaustion from all of the events of the day catching up to me and leaving me sleeping on the gray carpet of the library, my hand a pillow.

* * *

><p>I woke up with a start, a weight pressing down on my stomach. It only took my eyes seconds to adjust to the brightness coming in from the nearest window, and when they did my pupils shrunk further in complete shock.<p>

"Ino?" I questioned, pushing the thin girl off my body. She was deep into reading a book on the Mysteries of Egyptian History, eyebrows furrowing with every attempt I made to wriggle out from under her. With a grunt, I managed to push her off, and, unlike myself,—who was in an awkward position pressed against the bookcase—Ino was seated cross-legged, the same way she was before I knocked her off me. "Ino what are you doing here?" I asked in a hushed voice, for no particular reason. When I realized that it had to be no later than five o'clock in the morning, and that no one was in here but us, I saw how silly it was to whisper.

Nevertheless, I was still shushed.

"Wait a minute, Sakura," she demanded, blue eyes reading the page with interest. "They're talking about _mummies_."

My eyebrows crunched in confusion. Was this the same Ino that stomped down the halls in stilettos, skirt hiked up her waist as to shorten it, shirt buttons undone three low, showing as much skin as the deans and security allowed? Surely not, settled comfortably on the floors of the library at, according to the wall clocks, four forty-seven in the morning in Pink sweat pants and a tie-dye t-shirt from some cheer camp, reading.

Her hair was out of its trademark ponytail, natural waves and twisty curls that emerged with even the lightest misting of water spiraling and flowing in tidal waves down her shoulders, makeup was gone, and contacts were out, blue thick-rimmed glasses placed atop her nose. She laughed at something funny and the shiny metal of a retainer glistened in the light.

I could hardly believe what I saw before my eyes. Here was Yamanaka Ino, the most popular girl in school, if not second to Watanabe Ami, in her most natural state, slipper footed and in the library reading a historical book. I almost waited for her to say something witty, ("This _must_ be what it's like to live like you; I really wonder how you haven't committed suicide yet.") or insulting, anything that would make my little haven less than what it was, but the banter never came. The blonde cheerleader, totally immersed in her book, looked as if she felt as natural in here as I did. Warily, I grabbed the book I had slept on and stood, mind set on putting it back in its rightful place.

"Can you bring me back the one about the evil dog, Forehead?"

The request—or more specifically the pet name tagged onto the request—shook me frozen, and I stood locked half way between returning the book, hand still out, grasping the novel. I was so confused, tired, and sore, but mostly confused. I mean, it was obvious that Ino was in here to read, and I had even accepted that. Popular people can read, too, and her popularity could explain why she would have to sneak into the wing of the school before it opened at seven. She wouldn't want everyone knowing that she was a bookworm if she wanted her reputation to stay in tact. I completely understood that. However, she was acting as if everything between us was as it was before we fell out during the summer of eighth grade year.

I swallowed thickly and grabbed what I assumed she was talking of. "The Hound of the Baskervilles?" My voice had to be shaky and quiet, mind too consumed with trying to grasp the reality of the present and keep from straying away to the memories of the past. I walked toward her and placed the book at her side, bending over. I waited for a reply to the question but after a few moments of awkward silence on my end and unintended lack of response on hers, I let it go. I took a deep breath and strolled to the pile I had made last night and grabbed the next book, sitting beside it and across from Ino, back against the case.

I found it hard to move any further than the first paragraph of the book, heart pounding hard in my chest, uncomfortable with the fact that Ino was okay with me seeing her like this. Was it that she knew I was so low on the social stratosphere that it wouldn't make a difference how I saw her, since nobody would believe anything I said? Maybe it was that she didn't care what she looked like around me. I was jeans-and-a-tee-shirt Sakura. Wearing sweats was no big deal to me, so she probably felt okay. Then again, who is to say how she would've reacted if I were still as popular as she was? Would I even still be spending the majority of my time in the library? More likely than not, I'd be in my bed, treating a throbbing hangover from last night's party.

Ino's voice tore me from my rampant thoughts. "Are you really reading, or are you pretending like I am?"

"Pretending," I answered quickly, and after realizing how fast and honest the reply was, a small smile graced my lips. "Do you always sneak in here?"

She smiled and nodded, and all the ice melted. "Yeah. The backdoor lock is loose," she informed, pointing in the general direction of the back of the library, where biographies were. "I come in every morning at around four thirty so I can get my daily fix in before practice."

I laugh, "I almost forgot you wore glasses, Pig."

"Shut up!" She gasped, looking around for a thin paperback and proceeding to hurl it at my face. A giggle rolls off her lips, "At least I can hide that with a simple order of contacts. You can't fix ugly, Forehead."

For a second, I truly feel and believe that nothing at all has changed between us, and that we're best friends again. Throwing insults back and forth at each other, we completely forget that the other is number three in the entire class or captain of the cheer team, and none of the superficial matters, because deep down we're still Ino and Sakura—best friends forever. No amount of popularity, time, clothes, or brains could change that.

Neither of us know how much time has past until, grasping our sore stomachs from a giggling fit over a memory of when Inuzuka Kiba got caught peeing in a bush after a teacher had denied him access to the bathroom in the fourth grade, and Ino glanced toward the wall clock. She stopped laughing so abruptly that I stopped shortly after her, my light eyebrow rising. "What is it?"

She rose quickly, "It's almost six fifteen; I have to get ready for practice."

I nodded dully. "Of course, but doesn't it start at seven?"

She was putting away books in a hurry and tripping over her feet as she ran from one aisle to another, swearing under her breath when the task wasn't being completed fast enough. It seemed as if her pile of books never grew smaller, and, apparently, the same thought was running through her mind. She shuffled to me in her slippers and pouted, "Yeah, but I have to tackle this _beast_ on my head and change into something more presentable. Can you put these books away for me?"

The stack was plopped in my arms before I had a chance to give my answer, which would've been yes anyway. She disappeared for a moment before popping back.

"It was really nice talking to you again, Sakura-chan."

Here it was, the reality check that I was still that kid that she was once friends with, and that she was still the gorgeous girl that was always too cool whereas I was gangly and clumsy, that freakishly smart girl. Nobody understood the dynamics of our friendship, and standing here, at least twenty books in my hands, I considered if I myself even understood what was going on between Ino and me. I missed her, and that was the only thing that I could really comprehend fully.

I grinned, sadly, "Yeah. Ditto, Ino."

She stood before me, torn between leaving then, avoiding the goodbyes, leaving before I had anything else today, before she thought of anything else to say. I watched the internal battle she was fighting, ignoring the burning and twitching in my arms from carrying the books, and bit my lip, a sudden thought popping into my head just as she turned robotically to leave.

"Ino!"

She appeared again, perfectly arched eyebrows raised.

"I wanted to say thanks, you know, for earlier today," when her face remains questioning, I add quickly, "In the lunch room. With Ami. Thanks."

Ino smiles tilting her head, "It was totally no problem. Don't worry about it; I have to be the hero sometimes, don't I?"

* * *

><p>I sneak into the dorm, my pajamas, and then my bed quietly, trying not to upset TenTen in her sleep. I know that there is no point in my concentrated stealth—TenTen sleeps like a rock, and the only thing that I know that works when trying to wake her up is ice cold water on her head. I sink into my sheets and breathe in the generic laundry detergent. The comforter feels like heaven in comparison to the library floors, and yet I can't sleep.<p>

My eyes roam around the room and take in every detail, every thing that TenTen and I have put in her to make it out own. The most obvious change is the wallpaper, something really easy for us to put up and take down, purple and stripy. The color mellows me out somewhat, and I continue looking at our pictures.

We've been roommates for two years, so in some photos, I can definitely see the change in physical features. My hair is longer, we're both a little taller, and the awkward underclassman feeling is completely gone, now. We were at the amusement park, in the courtyard, someone's house that I don't recognize anymore. I close my eyes and snapshots of my many adventures with Ino, Kiba, Neji…and everybody else on top flash through my eyes and completely drown my little escapades with my friends that I have now.

I toss my body onto my side, twisting my hair in between my fingers. Why can't the friends I have now be friends with those who were once my friends? That would simplify many things running through my brain in argument. I feel tied down to where I am now, stuck in the social classes of high school, bound by my loyalty to the friends that are no threat to me, when all I want to do is be with the friends that offer more excitement and spontaneity. Perhaps they weren't as safe, but on the other side of the token, nobody wants to be safe all of their life and never experience all the world has to offer.

Maybe none of these things should be on the forefront of my mind. Why worry about friends when I have a retake to do in three days?

I stuff my head into my pillow and groan. What happened to all the simplicity in my life? I wish I could wake up, brush my teeth, eat breakfast with TenTen, and proceed with pointless acts without a second thought. Now, I have a test and the looming threat of leaving Konoha Preparatory for not performing well enough next year in my shadow. After running into Ino, I can't stop the memories of how wonderful and active my life was when I had her has my friend. The one thing she did that split us apart for what seemed like forever—and probably will be forever—flickered like a movie in my mind's eye.

I bite my lip and sigh, deciding that if I'm going to sleep off the aching in my back from sleeping on the floor earlier, I'm going to need to pretend to be asleep until nine thirty.

* * *

><p>Uchiha Sasuke hated his job.<p>

He despised the bright uniforms.

He abhorred that fact that he had to wake himself up earlier on the weekend to work the morning and afternoon shifts because Naruto never woke up early enough to take his own shift, so Sasuke—the good friend he was—covered the idiot every weekend. He swore that one day he would just stop doing it and see how long it would take before his own mother fired her son for lack of attendance, just for the kicks of it.

The customers, all females that sat in the back corner of the pizzeria, giggling and undressing him with just their eyes, made him want to rip the cash register from the counter and hurl it toward them. His fingers danced around the cold metal of the machine; it would just take a stronger grasp and an upward thrust, following a pitch in the direction of the girls. He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply.

If the people and the omnipresent smell of burnt crust, melting cheddar, mozzarella, feta and American cheese weren't enough to drive him over the edge of sanity, the fact that he worked with the _Uzumakis _would.

"Sasu-chan," a feminine voice called from the back of the parlor.

The teen flinched visibly, dumping seventy-eight cents into the palm of an ogling customer. "There's your change and the pizza will be out shortly," he muttered, tearing off the thin, yellow paper of the receipt. The girl giggled and took the piece out of his hand, giggling when their skin brushed. Sasuke groaned under his breath and informed, turning away from the girl, of whom was quickly losing any remnant of dignity she had, clutching the receipt as if it were paper gold.

He knew that the girl wasn't really going to eat the pizza. It was barely ten in the morning. No one with a slight sense toward order and the knowledge of when meals were supposed to go on would order a pepperoni pizza this early. She obviously just wanted to take pictures of him in uniform 'inconspicuously'.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, untying his red apron and dumping it into some other employee's chest. His coworker had no time to make any complaint about his break being cut short, seeing as the Uchiha was already heading with a full steam toward the Managerial room.

"Sasu-chan!"

He groaned, vision flashing red in aggravation. How many times was he going to have to tell that woman—_those _women—to stop calling him that in public? The thought passed through his mind and he edited it quickly. They should _never _be calling him something as embarrassing as…as a girlish pet name. He was seventeen years old, on the cusp of adulthood, and knew how to live on his own. He had a job that paid better than most kids he knew did—even though it was well known that his raises were more than everyone else's because of his family's relationship with the owners—and had an idea what he wanted to do with his life. The last thing anyone should ever be calling him is…

"Sasu—"

The door swung open with a heated fever, just as the dark-haired female finished the first syllables of her son's favorite pet name. She smiled innocently, sharing a look with one of her best friends that opposed all the sunshine, lollipops, and other sweetness conveyed in her grin. Sasuke saw through it immediately and narrowed his eyes at his mother.

Mikoto giggled, "Oh, don't be so sour, Sasuke. Come," she waved toward one of the many free seats in the room, "sit, my child."

He let his obsidian eyes study the two faces of the women he honestly saw too much of if he were to be completely honest with himself, and when he saw nothing but pure sugar in both their expressions, he concluded that they could be up to absolutely no good. Kushina Uzumaki, a redheaded time bomb of emotions, cleared her throat, sending Sasuke's head in the direction of his best friend's mother. He looked at her expectantly, eyebrows lifting.

"Hi, Sasuke," Kushina greeted cheerfully, "I was wondering, how old are you?"

Suddenly, Sasuke wished today was his day for delivery, therefore driving him further away from the estrogen-filled, embarrassment bringing females. He combed his hands through his hair and answered, "Seventeen."

The mothers exchanged a glance again, thousands of words filling the empty air in a language Sasuke could never hope to understand. They seemed to enter an argument, random scoffs and sighs exiting both of their mouths. Finally, just as Sasuke started to rise up out of his seat, deciding that girls were going to be girls no matter how old they were and that they weren't worth his time, Mikoto let out a tight sigh.

She clapped, "Look, Sasu-chan," he cringed, "I know that you're not unattractive."

He would've pointed out that she was his mother and that it was wrong for mothers to declare their child anything but decent—since saying your own kid sexy was slightly disgusting (slightly)—but Mikoto was on a roll, her pause in speaking making her son hang onto every word that she had yet to say. However, on the outside, he was cool as ice, an apathetic expression painting his features.

After tossing a few words around in the air, Mikoto seemed to decide on the way that she was going to break this to her son.

"You're going to get a girlfriend," she said bluntly.

His eyes widened, and surprise flashed through his features. "Excuse me?"

* * *

><p>I was forcefully awakened—since I did manage a few hours more—when I heard the creaky sound of someone (read: TenTen) screeching our curtains open. The sunlight flooded in and painted my back of my eyelids red, sharply contrasting the calming blackness that consumed me in sleep. I covered my eyes with my hands and groaned, trying to hold onto peaceful thoughts for as long as possible.<p>

"Sakura-chan," TenTen whined, bouncing on my bed, by judgment of weight distribution, on her two feet, standing. I jumped and wiggled with each bounce my friend made, and the thought of hurling something passed through my mind. The only object I had to throw was my pillow, and, well, it was so soft, warm and comfortable. I sighed happily, hugging my pillow tighter. It is _so_ wonderful…

I barely comprehended an irritated grunt before my sheets were ripped from my body, leaving me in booty shorts and a thin camisole. "Why?" I murmured, my eyes squinting in pain, the light nearly blinding me. I hugged myself in attempt to bring some warmth, green orbs giving TenTen my best glare. By best, I mean worst, but considering my dramatic awakening, I feel as if I were to see the slight narrowing, I would be proud of myself. Thumbs freaking up.

TenTen grinned, "Well, for one, it's almost eleven."

My face fell flat, failing to see her point in saying what time it was.

"Secondly, Kin and I are going out," she giggled, "I might be able to convince her to drive by the mall. Do you want to come with us, Strawberry?"

I fell back onto my stomach, inhaling my mattress. "No," I mumbled into the sheets, "Cover me, though, will you?"

I wait until I have my soft comforter on my body to pretend to be asleep, when the dorm door clicks closed and I guesstimate about fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, the time does arrive wherein I must kick my feet over the nice comfortable bed and start my day. For most efficient, usable study time, I figure I need to give myself, at the very least, an hour to an hour and a half—possibly two hours—at the library with the tutors Kakashi rounded up. With it already being eleven, I had to about two minutes left to lounge around and do nothing. I grumbled and threw myself off the bed.

Our dorm was organized just as everyone else's was on this floor. Upon entering the doorway, a long hallway led into 'bedroom', two twin side beds pushed against the wall on their heads. In between them was a small table, with a lamp, telephone, and digital clock resting on the wood. TenTen and I had a window, luckily, and it was on the right side of her bed, large and almost taking up our entire right wall. Across from the two beds was a television, nice enough but old compared to all of the crazy things manufacturers are coming up with these days. Still, it was propped against the wall in all of its eighteen-inch glory.

Two desks were on the same wall as the television, and the bathroom and the closet were in the long hallway, closer to the door. Thankfully, my bed was closer to the restroom than Ino's—I stopped cold in my steps.

Ino?

This definitely calls for an extra hot shower.

* * *

><p>Karin fell into her split naturally, though almost unnaturally, uncomfortable with being ahead of all of her fellow cheerleaders, leading them in the morning stretches. Her eyes scanned the usual crew, noticing the absence of both the captain—Ino—and her right hand (wo)man, Ami. Being the closest friend between the two of them and, logically, the next in line in that sense, against her will, the redhead was chosen to instruct today's practice until either of the two showed.<p>

"Point your toes, head to knee right side, eight beat count, ladies," she yelled out above the music absently, in a sort of routine manner that was easily memorized. She did listen to her two blonde friends bark out the orders every morning before and after school. With her nose pressed to her knee, Karin let her mind wonder to what she planned to do during practice this morning. Normally, Ino would have left an assignment for them to do if she planned to be late or absent one day, but with a pretty piece of pink paper missing from the gym bulletin board, Karin was left with the assumption that Ino might not ever show up.

She would have to do this all on her own and, with an upside of her being the point of the pyramid for a day, her other teammates would be judging her during her time as leader. "And now to the left," Karin called out, switching sides habitually. She supposed they could practice their kicks some, maybe do a few easy tricks, and end the day with a nice jog around the track once or twice. She could handle that. Yeah, definitely, there was nothing life threatening about a few high kicks, flips, basket tosses, or running. It wasn't like they hadn't been doing these things throughout their high school careers.

"Middle, girls!" A new voice called from the swinging entrance doors of the gym. Karin hopped out of her split quickly and ran to the purple haired latecomer, latching onto her. Murmurs arose almost instantaneously, and she removed herself, much to Ami's pleasure. With her keys in her hand, her huge Coach bag tossed onto her shoulder, and big Chanel sunglasses covering her eyes, the girl looked like she either just woke up from a killer hangover or drove back from the beach. Considering the early hour and the lack of swimsuit, Karin assumed her friend faced the former.

Ami looked around the redhead and snapped three times, eyebrows furrowing. "Come on, girls, I wasn't joking! Middle stretches, _now_!"

They obliged, without a word, quickly. Karin sent her attention back toward Ami, wondering how she had that power over them when it had taken her nearly fifteen minutes to convince them that it would be best to get into their lines for stretches during stretch time. Under her scrutinizing gaze, Karin felt compelled to explain why, after nearly thirty minutes of practice elapsing, the team had just barely started the stretch regimen. "We had a team talk; it got a little," the redhead searched for the correct term, "deep. It got deep and we lost track of time."

"Oh," she said, lip glossed lips sliding apart, "Well, next time you decide it'd be best to have a team talk, schedule it before practice, 'kay?"

Karin scratched the back of her head, trying to hide her annoyance. "I can't schedule practice times, Ami-chan; only you and Ino—"

Ami sent her a hard look, something that pierced through the black of the eyeglass lenses. "Doesn't that explain how I feel about 'team talks' then? Ugh," she flipped her hair, "it's like I have to spell it out to you." She turned on the ball of her foot and waltzed to the center of the gym, grabbing a megaphone from the hardwood flooring during her trek.

Guessing that was a silent demand for her to return to the rows and begin stretching like everyone else, Karin groaned, sticking her tongue out at the princess. She never liked Ami. Hate, being a strong word and such, didn't seem to explain it. Karin plopped down next to some girl that was a strong flipper and proceeded to stretch her hamstrings. She did respect Ami, and though it wasn't in fear that she respected the girl who was barking into the megaphone, Karin could admit that she was definitely intimidating. Displeasing her was something no one openly thought of, talked about, or did. It just did not happen.

The redhead finished the stretches absently, going through the motions. When they were complete, Ami sent everyone out for a quick breakfast bar break. The act was such a rarity that the girls stumbled out of sequence and awkwardly walked to the far side of the gym, toward their bags. Karin stood and walked toward Ami, instinctively knowing that this was only something used to distract everyone else for however long it took for her to get information on Ino's whereabouts. Karin knew that she had had to have noticed by now that something weird was going on.

"Someone would think that if you've only been captain for a year and someone that has been captain for _two_ years is ready to take your spot at any given time and opportunity that that person would be at every single practice, early and prepared to lead," Ami grumbled, crossing her arms. She looked to her left, where Karin was standing. "Any information would be greatly appreciated."

Karin grinned crookedly, a gleam flashing in her eyes.

"Depends on what you want to know, Ami-chan."

* * *

><p><em>AN: _First off! I'm sorry for the late update! I'm in summer school and we just went through our midterms. It has been _hounding. _I have started a little bit of the next chapter, but I have plotted the whole story so, I know what's going to happen. (UNLIKE YOU ALL MWHAHAHAHAHA! jk)

Second! I have a beta! YAY! She goes by _sighs (.) and (.) smiles (.) _Disregard the spaces and parentheses. FF is weird. Check her out; great girl. :) My chapters from here on out shall be beta'd! WOOT!

Third! Thanks for all your reviews…

_unemployed-ninja_, _laylayuzumaki_, _Azkatellia_, _shasa_, _Anime-girl-next-door_, and _TeamTHEFT_

Fourth! I used a lot of 3rd person point of view in this chapter toward the end. I don't know what's up with me; it's like I can only write Sakura when I feel like it and when I'm in the mood. Especially in this chapter, she was like 'OMG I failed, blah blah blah, whine, Ino talked to me, boo' it was hard. I can't wait until the next arc and she becomes _a lot _more complex. Yes, that was a unsubtle hint. You'll get it once I publish the whole story and you look back on how much the cherry blossom has grown. It's a phase she's going through, I swear, and I can't wait for it to be over as much as you guys probably do. I guess it'll be done in about three or four chapters, realistically, but _hopefully_, she'll be cheerier in one or two chapters. We'll see.

Fifth! The review question from last update was actually from the first chapter. Kakashi's classroom number is 207G. It was mentioned in passing, toward the beginning of the chapter.

Sixth! This week's review question:

What GPA must Sakura maintain if she wants to stay in Konoha Preparatory?

Seventh!

Karin was really fun to write, but I think Sasuke was a little more enjoyable. Two-faced gossip loving bitch cliché is so overdone. I'll have to fix that. Anyhow…

_**Review!**_

**~hotoffthefryer**


	4. Smugly

"Beauty is the first test; there is no permanent place in the world for ugly mathematics."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Ugly<em>**

* * *

><p>My feet carried me to the square piece of paper that found itself stapled onto the Library Bulletin. The bulletin contained normal information such as school events that everyone had to attend like assemblies, meetings, and class discussions, it also held things like fundraisers for different school groups, and most recently, the board was filled with schedules for tutoring. I heaved my tote bag, a notebook, a few pencils, my calculator, and the geometry book stored inside, higher on my shoulder and flipped my hair out of the way, observing the different lists.<p>

When finally my eyes found Kakashi's AP Level Geometry retake Tutor list, I felt like a professional bowler thought that I was a pin and decided to try their luck with me. Why? Well simply because the only tutor left was none other than Uchiha Sasuke, the sexy reason I'm even in this freaking mess.

Let's see how well _this_ will go.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Smugly_

* * *

><p>The thing about Sasuke is that he just doesn't seem to give a rat's ass about anything. I mean, he doesn't <em>care. <em>Maybe that's why he's so attractive to every single female that calls this school their own. No…who I am even trying to kid? He is attractive because he has that whole Tall, Dark and Handsome deal going for him, and tag along to that the fact that he's so cool and mysterious. It's like an adventure trying to get to know him—or at least I've heard. Of course, I wouldn't know. Well, I guess I am going to start to get to know that but, well, you know; everything has a start, right?

Right.

I took a large intake of breath and released it, trying to do all I could to keep myself from fainting at any random point. I then found his area easily, groups of girls already positioning themselves for optimum viewing of the beauty that is Uchiha, and, well, he's Sasuke. I've been studying him for the past ten years of my life.

He's seated in a back corner of the library, lounging on a huge denim plush pillow, a stripy green and blue pillow across from him, and a low table separating the two pillows. He was flipping through the pages of ESPN magazine absently, biting his lip whenever something seemed interesting to him. He looked so cute, all indulged in his sports editorial. I leaned against a bookcase with my shoulder, fiddling with the charm of my necklace. It was all too easy to see myself in between is arms, pretending to read whatever he was when I was really relishing in the strong beating of his heart against my back, the smell of his soap, shampoo, the warmth radiating off his body. He would notice that I wasn't paying attention, send those obsidian orbs melting into mine. Our faces would inch closer together until the space was eventually nonexistent, and then…

I sighed, the image blowing away with my breath. I had to be serious here; this was for my retake on a final that could heavily influence the classes I take next year, and in turn make final impressions for colleges that want me. Everyone knows that Junior grades are what colleges look at, yeah, but Senior year is just as important. It seals the deal and I might as well send the letters back if I didn't have at least one AP class. Math was my best bet, and looked pretty good on transcripts. AP Math was necessary for AP Biography, too, and that'll help me become a doctor. It all adds up and in order for it to add up, I'm going to have to subtract some Sasuke from my thoughts and divide his hotness from his intelligence. It just has to happen.

My newfound will shattered when I took a step in his direction and dozens of vicious, hungry, potentially life-threatening heads snapped toward me, dark eyes narrowing in malice. I forced a grin and waved, heart thumping hard against my ribcage, begging for release. As soon as they turned away reluctantly, I leaned against the bookcase again, hugging my tote to my chest. This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

_Brace yourself, Haruno_, I told myself mentally some moments later, walking forward with a somewhat confident gait, imagining myself on a super model runway. It felt that way, with all the eyes from Sasuke's fan girls watching each step I made closer to him, and when I stepped onto the hardwood flooring that separated the Lounge Area from the rest of the library, an audible gasp rebounded off the walls. I took a sharp breath and plopped into my pillow, sinking into the fluff with a puff noise. I glanced toward Sasuke quickly, checking if my not so graceful plopping had attracted his attention.

He flipped another page in the magazine, a yawn slipping from his mouth. That sounded so cute! It was like…a puppy or something! Except more masculine and dreamy of course, and I swear I'm not obsessed. Just really overwhelmed. I run my hand through my hair and stop at my ponytail, unclasping the loop. If it's undone, I guess I could distract myself with my split ends or something, if all else fails. A gust of wind from the open window nearest us blew and sent my hair splaying.

I reached for the wild pink tresses with my rubber band, ready to loop a messy bun. Bad idea, Sakura! Bad idea. You know you didn't brush you're hair as well as you should've when you finally got out of that bed. Now the wind has probably completely trashed it. It is not even all the way dry either. You probably splashed Mr. Hotness over there with shower water. My Kami, that was a stupid, dumb, terrible, idiotic idea. Bad, bad, bad, bad—

"Haruno, right?"

My hands stopped looping my hair, frozen in a trance. I can literally feel the blush creeping up my body, starting at the back of my neck and climbing to my ears, heating the tips, and finally splashing onto my checks in a discolored frenzy. I'm sure my face is the same color as my hair when I find a reply, "Yeah…," it seems like minutes pass, and I add, "Uchiha, right?"

I meant to be funny but he just gave me this look that probably meant that I definitely was _not _funny. My eyes scurry away from the serious mask painted over his features and I dip my head, muttering something about getting my books out so we could start. This was a _very_ bad idea.

* * *

><p>"I don't like to beat around the bush."<p>

That was his answer to my question of why he usually only spoke when he had to, and whenever that was done, it was in a minimalistic fashion. The answer threw me off a bit, my eyes slowly trailing away from my blank—save for my name, date, and chapter—piece of notebook paper and met his impassive eyes. He was fiddling with a page of the book I brought; probably trying to find what would help me the most.

I harrumphed, completely trumped on trying to categorize him as I usually—unfortunately—do with people that I don't know that well, or wish to get to know. Of course with Sasuke, it's the former, but the fact that he wasn't as copy and paste, puzzle piece, cookie cutter as I thought he was set me off. I found my original girlish giddiness fade away, inquisition taking its place. Tapping my pencil on my chin, I continued, "But what if you can't say what you need to say?"

He held a page with his hand and sent a studied gaze in my direction. Seconds passed as we just sat, I waiting for an answer and he, I would guess, quarrying upon one. My heart was just starting to pump blood into my cheeks when he glanced away, only to glance back shortly after. A perfect brow arched, just a tad higher than the other was, and had I not been looking at him (adoring his face), I would've missed the slight change.

I guessed this meant that he wanted further explanation.

"Like…," I popped my lips, leaning into the puffball, "Sometimes giving the bare minimum isn't enough. Especially in communication."

Sasuke nodded slowly, eyes shifting back to the book. He pushed it toward me, flipping the textbook around so I could read the exercises right side up. "One through fifteen first," he mutters, pulling out his iPod and sticking the black ear buds into his ear.

My mouth hangs open, silenced by his sudden change in conversation. Nevertheless, I refocus myself eventually and bite my lip, starting with the easy stuff.

The second semester started with the basic geometry of three-dimensional shapes. I breezed through the questions asking about how many faces were on this shape, and how many vertices were on the other. No more than ten minutes later, I had finished the fifteen questions. I flick my eyes in Sasuke's direction, seeing him nodding his head softly to the beat to whatever he was playing on his iPod. I wondered what he listened to in terms of music. Alternative? Rock? Screamo? Maybe even classical.

Somehow, the thought that I wasn't ever going to find out what he was listening to if I just sat here, thinking about it, passed through my mind. My earlier daydream sifted its way into the cracks of my recognition, and all I could see was the table separating us. I cleared my throat, drying the tears that began to puddle in my eyes, "I'm—uh—I finished."

Sasuke paused his song and took my notebook in his hands, surveying my work and checking my answers. He's wasting his time, really; they're all right. Still, I feel nervous giving my work to someone that's not a teacher, supervisor, or anyone that's not an adult. The fact that he's my age makes me want to ask him what credentials he has to tell me whether I was right or wrong.

_He did pass the test, Saku-babe…_

I jerked my body around the library at the voice, searching for anyone I knew. Besides the girls who still were trying to decipher why I was still hanging around Sasuke, all of those in the library were busy studying for their respective retakes, talking with their tutors, or just reading leisurely. The entirety of the faces was foreign to me, to the extent where I've only seen them in passing in hallways, so the shock wired me. Maybe I was just hearing things.

"You got them all right."

The deep treble flipped me back forward, mouth acting before my brain had a chance to censor the words. "Of course, I did," I muttered, a smug grin stretching my mouth.

He raised an eyebrow, taking his ear buds out completely. Sasuke leaned forward, placing his head on his now intertwined fingers.

I sighed, "Sorry."

Sasuke tells me to finish the rest of the page and be sure to show my work in case I make any mistakes—a small smirk tweaking his lip upward—because then it'd be easier for him to point out what I did incorrectly that way. He explains this in less than three sentences, all in one breath, and returns back to his iPod, leaving me to my own devices.

I work through the remainder of the A level questions breezily, but once the B and C level questions start rolling through, I begin to bite my lip in frustration. Many of them were asking me to compute the surface area, volume, and lateral area of various shapes. I hardly remembered all the formulas necessary to do this—at least the easier way—and grumbled, leaning back. I glanced toward Sasuke, remembering that he said he would let me do problems without instruction until I needed it.

My pencil thrummed against the table as I studied the question one more time. Rectangular prisms are all rectangles. So…to find the volume…I grumbled. Maybe I should ask Sasuke for help, even though I don't want to so early. This was barely through the first second of the second term, and I was already having problems. It was almost embarrassing. I could work it out if I just thought hard enough, I knew.

I tried thinking back to what had to have been February, maybe even January, and my strained memory swerved down the twisted roads at high speeds, finally landing in 207G. Kakashi was at the front of the class, dry erase marker in his palm as he explained the differences between formulas in three-dimensional shapes. I watched the reminiscence from her own eyes, seated in the seat that she had somehow kept after the seat-switch of the terms.

Kakashi's voice was slurred and hard to understand, words coming out too slowly to make sense of them. I focused my attention on the board then, catching a glimpse at the words, only to have my gaze sent in another direction, toward my notes. A messy sketch of Sasuke's profile covered the page, along with a few scribbles indicating what I had to do later on that night, and a couple of games of Tic-Tac-Toe me and Shikamaru had played before he retired to sleep.

I snapped back into reality when someone snatched my pencil out of my grasp.

Sasuke's body was beside mine in the striped pillow moments later. "Which number?" He asked, face inches from my own face. My words caught instantly in my throat when I realized our proximity and I almost squealed. I forced my heart rate to slow, taking deep breaths and unlocking my green eyes from his dark blue orbs.

"Twenty four," I answered quietly, fingering the hair of my ponytail.

He nodded and took my notebook, drawing the rectangular box with quick precision. He added the dimensions in small numbers and read over the information that the word problem provided. "They want to know how many bags of sand they need to fill three quarters of the box. First, you have to find the total volume of what the sandbox can hold."

My eyes followed the lines he made, drawing a table of sorts. He labeled the different columns according to what the problem called for. "The equation for the volume of a rectangular prism is length times width times height. For this problem, that'd be twelve times eight times two."

I inputted the numbers in my calculator and supplied him with the answer. He wrote it down in the first column of the table, and then in the middle of the box he drew. "Every bag of sand fills thirty square feet," he informed, circling the information in the book. He looked at me expectantly, head tilted slightly.

"Find what three quarters of 192 is and divide that by thirteen?" I say cautiously, eyebrows furrowing in indecision.

A small smirk lit his face, "Aa. You got it."

Something cracked to life inside of me, burning like an inferno of sudden life, a quick firework, fast to light and long lasting. The warmth enveloped me in its arms, and a tingling sensation covered me. I blushed, smiling, "Of course, I did."

* * *

><p>TenTen cruised alongside Kin on her skateboard, crouching slightly at her knee and leaning to the left to perform a turn. The wind whipped at her long brown hair, undone from her usual tight, twin buns for the first time in months. She hadn't been outside of that school in long enough.<p>

"Where're we going anyway, TenTen?" Kin asked for the umpteenth time, following the brunette girl. She had to admit that it had been a long time since she had just hung out on her skateboard without a purpose, but with each time she and the Taiwanese girl hung out, she grew more and more wary about it.

Kin didn't like hiding things from her friends, and, really, she didn't. Everyone she associated with knew that she was more of a tomboy than anything else. However, TenTen—she pretended as if she was a ditz just to fit in, and she wasn't doing that good of a job at that. Kin sighed and followed TenTen around another corner. She had no idea where they were anymore, far past the residential area and common grounds. Kin vaguely wondered how soon it would be until they neared Downtown Konoha.

The brunette girl glanced backward toward her dark-haired friend and shrugged, "My cousins' place. They know this great skate park and they're going to take us there."

Kin mumbled an okay, trailing slightly behind TenTen now. She followed her atop the sidewalk, hopping lightly to jump the curb. People, businessmen and women, shoppers, and others sneered at their entrance on the concrete. TenTen swerved through them with ease, many shouts and hollers of shock elicited by her actions.

While Kin was unsurely following TenTen, TenTen felt more natural than she had felt all year. She wished she could do this more often, honestly, she wished she could just walk around the way she did in the comfort of her aunt's house. She felt more real in Taiwan, too, more there, with less covering her. She felt real. TenTen made a sharp stop ahead of a townhouse, black iron rod fencing ahead of her. A loud thud and resounding ring confirmed Kin's arrival.

"You're such a ditwad," TenTen muttered, reaching over the fence and unlocking the door. She fit her skateboard under her arm and stepped up the stairs that lead to her aunt's house, Kin steps behind her, nursing a bruise forming on her forehead. When they both reached the top step, TenTen gave Kin the basic instructions. "My aunt adopted my cousins from this one foster home that was crazy, so, sometimes they can get distant and weird and start talking like they've been through hell and back. Suigetsu and Juugo—he's the one with the orange hair and is nicer."

Kin nodded, "I'll remember that."

* * *

><p>The sun shining through the window was starting to shine in a yellowish hue, orange tints lighting up the white walls. The sunset was just beginning, which mean it had to be around seven, and being here since three thirty, I didn't want to leave. Sasuke was still beside me in the plush pillow, comfortably listening to his iPod as I worked through the third unit. Sasuke had said we were making good time but tutoring was going to be over soon, people sifting out of the library in groups of two and three at a time, and the librarian had come to tell us that she would be leaving in an half an hour, twenty minutes, fifteen minutes, five minutes.<p>

I drew another triangle, a little box in the corner indicating that it was a right triangle, and glanced toward Sasuke. His eyes were glued outside the window, glassed over so much that I had to guess he was either really focused on something or day dreaming.

My thoughts wandered toward what it would be like if he was never Ino's boyfriend. Would he be with me right now, unconditionally in love, all secrets shared, so comfortable with the other's being that without the other, they were always on the mind? I wondered if he still thought about Ino. Did he still think about when we were all friends? He must've forgotten if he had asked who I was earlier, if Naruto had to ask who I was yesterday. Or, was it two days ago? I had no idea, the irony of the situation bewildering me; how was it that I could remember them so clearly, every event in vivid detail, and they couldn't? I sent my glance downward again, looking at my triangle again, trying to figure out family it belonged to.

I couldn't focus, though. The numbers aren't numbers but little squiggly shapes that are supposed to mean something but are things that I can't comprehend. I remember when she asked him out, I remember it so clearly that if I really wanted to, I could explain the story in full detail to a kindergartner and have them understand every complex emotion I felt. I guess in some ways I still feel the same, that sort of splitting that occurred that day. I mean, the split still exists now, so doesn't it make sense for me to know just how it happened? Even if people let some things go, it doesn't mean they forget them all the way, does it?

My eyes shift back to Sasuke to see him looking down at me, face unreadable.

"Um," I mumble, caught in the middle of spacing out again, "Sorry."

His face bunches in confusion, "You apologize a lot."

Good observation, but, now that you mention it, I was apologizing for not doing anything about what could've been with us, and letting someone else trample all over how I felt for me. I apologize even further for that letting me stop my relationship with everyone else, and make _me_ uncomfortable with myself. I'm sorry that I just stood there and let my best friend pick my future for me. I'm sorry for melting away into the background and adjusting to it, when I was always meant to stand out. At least I think that's what I'm apologizing for.

Since I have no idea, I answer as honestly as I can, with a shrug. "I don't know why, Sasuke."

"Well," he says, standing up and swooping his backpack onto his shoulder, "Tomorrow?"

I'm seconds away from nodding a yes while gathering my own things but stop myself, remembering that TenTen's party is tomorrow and that I'll be busy baking her cake, shopping for something to get her, and breaking into the Staff Lounge to go to tutoring. The pounding in my head seems happy for the break, even if it's only a day and it means it's going to have to work even harder to make up for that missed day. Once I get my book into my tote bag I shake my head, "Um, no, unfortunately. My friend is having a party."

"You're going to have to come up to my dorm then."

My heart pounds heavy at that as I watch him walk toward the doorway. When he's too far away to justify my standing here like an idiot, I take swift steps to catch up to his long strides, and meet him in the hallway. I try to ignore the stares following us as we walk through the nearly empty corridors. I retie my ponytail, "What do you mean by that?"

He stops at the exit doors that lead to the next dorm building. "Hn," he grunts, opening the door and letting me walk out ahead of him into the breezy early night air. "We're not going to get through all of units if you can't do tomorrow."

_Oh_, I sigh, relief pooling over me. The relief is soon replaced by a bittersweet sadness. Why would I even think that I would be going to Uchiha Sasuke's room to do _that_? Come on now, Sakura, you know you do not send off those types of messages. My head bobs up and down in understanding, not willing to break the silence that had sunk around us.

* * *

><p>"So you didn't order thirteen extra large cheese, pepperoni, and vegetarian pizzas, five liters of Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper, and Crush, and three family sized pastas of lasagna and chicken Alfredo?"<p>

Naruto balanced all of these items in one palm—save for the sodas, which he set upon the porch bench—, the other hand holding a receipt with just that written in the signature scribbles of one of his cousins. He stood outside the threateningly large mansion of the Yamanaka family, feeling awkward under the scrutinizing gaze of a certain teenage blonde princess. She held the door open a crack, music pulsating from the opening along with the sharp smell of spiked punch. The sound of breaking glass and a following shout of drunken amusement broke the repulsed glare Ino was giving her fellow blond pizza delivery boy.

She grimaced, "Do I _look _like I could eat all of that?"

"I don't know but it _looks_," Naruto exaggerated just as much as the cheer captain did, pretending to flip his own hair for extra effect, "like you can afford to pay for all of this."

Ino sneered, "I'll be right back," and with that she slammed the front door closed, leaving Naruto in the occasional summer breeze, carrying the weight of a small baby on his arm easily. He examined his bicep to shorten the time. No matter how much he would complain about the hell coaches made him go through, the results made up for the pain tenfold. Smiling, the blond teen squished the receipt pad into the back pocket of his khaki uniform pants, and proceeded to poke at the bulging muscle.

A buzzing in his side pocket caused him to pause in his entertainment, and he bit his lip, focusing on not dropping the lot of food. When he grasped the sleekness that was his Droid, he quickly answered the telephone, sliding his thumb across the green icon.

"Hey, teme, what's up?"

"You're not at home."

Naruto rolled his blue eyes, "I guess not. I mean, I thought I was but with all this pizza in my hand and whatnot, I suppose I wasn't at our dorm room."

He laughed when Sasuke groaned audibly, irritation obvious.

"What do you want, teme?"

Sasuke answered, "Hn. I left my key inside. Where do you keep yours?"

Naruto's eyes widened when a wad of money smacked his face and the food disappeared out of his grasp. The door ahead of him shut again, the smell of pizza and pasta lasting in the air surrounding for a few moments. He kneeled down and picked up the banded money. He sifted through the stack, counting far over a few hundred dollars.

"Nice," he murmured as his feet led him to the red delivery car automatically, swagger in his step. "Very nice."

"Dobe," Sasuke grumbled, "I need the key."

The blonde sank into the small red delivery Corvette and started the car, smashing his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he drove. "I don't see what the urgency is, teme. Why don't you crash at Neji's place or something?"

A silence emerged, crickets of the humid night filling the blanks, until Sasuke muttered quickly, "There'sagirlwithme."

Naruto stopped abruptly in front of a stop sign, causing the person trailing him to honk loudly at him. He rolled his eyes and motioned for the jerk to go ahead of him, waving his hand outside the window. Naruto eyed the middle-aged, balding mother—ha—with his toughest glare and turned off the engine, figuring he still had ten more minutes until he absolutely had to head to the next house for delivery.

"Oh, Sasu-cakes, I didn't hear that too well. Can you say it slower please? Speak up, speak up, too, _and enunciate_."

The blonde boy could hardly contain himself when he could all but hear the glare Sasuke was trying to send him through the cellular device. This was great. Naruto was never going to let this one go. Here was the thought to be asexual Sasuke with a girl, all ready to sex her up, he goes to the door, and finds that he can't get in! Oh, this was going to be all over the school social site as soon as Naruto could figure out his password. The three-day block on his account was over tomorrow, too.

"Shut up, dobe," Sasuke seethed. "Tell me where your key is and I swear I'll forget about you borrowing my Axe."

Naruto whined. "Fine, mean butt. It's under the flowerpot right by the door."

A few seconds passed and his best friend eventually muttered a, "Thank you, idiot," before he hung up aptly.

The blonde stared at his phone for a few seconds, wondering vaguely who the girl was while he started the car once again. He couldn't wait to get home so he could bother Sasuke about this to the very best of his ability. And in order to do that, he must be there while the girl is. It was going to be a fun experience, he knew it.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, let me be honest, I had like no motivation to write this chapter. Come on, you guys, _review_. I hate to be a whiny butt, but, it's true and anybody who writes and publishes their stories on fanfiction knows how good it feels to get a review. It makes you want to write more and write faster because it makes you feel amazing how somebody to the time out of their day to write something personal for the author because they appreciate the story that much. I'm not gonna beg for them and I'm not going to lie. I wrote slowly because I was waiting for reviews. It's sad but that is how it works.

So, come on, you guys, do me a favor.

_**Review?**_

_**~hotoffthefryer**_


	5. Pretty Ugly

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Ugly<em>**

* * *

><p>"Do you have any, uh," I asked, standing awkwardly in the obviously male dorm room, scratching the back of my head. Socks, tee shirts, left over pizza and ramen, take-out containers, red cups with mysterious liquid, and the smell of evident death attacked me all at once and I was stunned silent. How could Sasuke live in this? It would be understandable if the majority of the mess—as it somewhat was—was scattered widely among one side of the room. However, the junk was pretty much <em>everywhere<em>.

Sasuke seemed to notice that I was standing in the only clean corner and mumbled what I had to assume was an apology and grabbed a big laundry bag from underneath the made bed, which I guessed was his. It was blue and the other bed was…orange. Interesting that he was paired with whoever his roommate was. They must've been complete and total opposites.

"Give me a minute; I didn't have time for laundry today," he says, stuffing the dirty clothes into the dark blue bag. I find myself nodding absently and skipping around piles of clothes, to the desk, and plopping into the wheeled chair.

"It's cool." I spin slowly, the room now like a tornado of maleness, "You don't mind me staying in here while you run to the laundry rooms?"

He heaves the now full and bulging bag over his shoulder, making the muscles in his arms totally flex and look delicious like—I turn away forcefully and pretend to be immersed in the view from their window. My face is burning ridiculously, the heat radiating from my cheeks and warming my whole body. What in the world was going on? Was that like…pre-swoon? I grumble lightly and plop my head in my hands. It really helps that we are in here alone, too.

Do you know what girls would do if they were in this position right now? I feel my throat closing on itself, bones smashing together. If those girls knew that _I _was here, right now, with Sasuke in his dorm room while his roommate was out doing whatever roommates do, I would be dead. Dead as in deceased. I can't even imagine what this will do to my reputation. How low will I fall? Do I even have any lower to go?

Sasuke taps my shoulder, "Ten minutes."

All the fireworks blaring on my face migrated to my shoulder, fire blazing to the area in an uncontrollable show. I blinked away the shock and turned toward him with a false smile, too many thoughts racing through my brain to allow a real, genuine, see-you-when-you-get-back grin. "I'll be here," I say to his back with a wave, trying to keep my eyes from trailing to lower regions. My heart jumps when he grunts his reply, and deflates like a popped balloon when the door slams shut.

A sound from behind me flips me around to the desk, just now realizing that there's a nice—as in expensive, modern, new, dreamy—laptop on the surface, underneath all of the other clutter. I make a face and swipe away a sock and what I really hope are pajama shorts _not_ underwear, and look at the message that sent the laptop lighting.

"A party invitation…," I murmur after clicking the flashing icon. I read over the information and can't help but smile.

I _honestly_ should fail more often. Really. It just allows so many more opportunities in life.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Five<strong>_

_Pretty Ugly_

* * *

><p>Ino plopped down in the crystal white furniture her father had just purchased, crossing her legs carefully. Her fingernails and toenails were drying from a fresh coat of red and black crackle nail polish, and though all she wanted to do was excuse herself and add a final clear coat for extra shininess, her 'parents' had called her in for a meeting.<p>

Today had been hell—mostly suck-ish because that Sakura girl had made her late to practice (like, so late that it would've been ridiculous for her to show up, so she decided to take a visit to the mall for a party outfit) and Ami was hounding her with ferocious text messages, like _seriously_—and now her stupid Dad wanted to talk to her with his stupid doll thing next to him all wrapped in his arms as if that's where she belonged all her life?

_Oh, puh-leese. _

"Hello, darling," Inoichi greeted, tipping his head in her direction.

That annoyed Ino to no end. No hug for your wonderful daughter of whom you haven't seen in months? She bit back a sour comment to some toothpick of a woman Inoichi had brought home _this_ time. She couldn't even keep track; she gave up after she was seven at remembering her next stepmother's name. Ino quickly glanced toward the girl's—because, honestly, she could probably be an older sister to her—ring finger, happy to see nothing attached. Yet.

She smiled despite the acidity spilling into her mouth. "Hi, Daddy, how was your trip to Berlin?"

He made a face and shrugged, motioning that he rather not talk about it. Ino rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock. Should she mention that he has reservations at a restaurant to get him out of the house in time for the party? Or, would that be just wrong? It would, of course, fulfill its purpose, but how long would it take for Inoichi to realize he didn't have reservations at all and head back home? Maybe she could conjure something else up…like…

"Oh, Daddy, Hyuuga-sama called. He said something about golfing at that new country club?"

This reeled in her father so quickly; Ino almost thought that her genius was so spectacular that even her own father was beginning to question it. However, when the man simply asked when, Ino grinned, and within the next half hour, both her father and his little sugar baby were out the house, no more questions asked.

She was good.

The blonde girl waltzed on careful toes to the family room, happy to leave the wonderful couple at the door with a false promise of good behavior and a date with her Chemistry book. Ino plopped gracefully back into the white couch, her fluffy white robe blending with the leather interestingly. She pulled her cell phone from the pocket and slid the keyboard out innately. Ami had said that she wanted to talk to her about her absence in person tonight, and it wasn't that Ino didn't like Ami, no; it was just that she preferred not to be alone with the girl.

She could get really bitchy when not in the company of her adoring followers.

Ino rolled her eyes when the main follower's name appeared on her phone screen. It was a text from Karin. She barely had to read the message to know what it was asking for, but she had been receiving and ignoring the same thing since she decided to go home instead of hanging out at the school. In no ways was the Yamanaka hiding from Ami and her questions, of course not, she was trying to save face for the both of them.

It was what she liked to call a militaristic battle of the high school levels. When two girls held the same level of popularity—though she personally liked to think that she was more likable and therefore had a few (ha, really now, she's amazing) more popularity points than Ami—they sometimes liked to take any opportunity they had to spice things up. Ino knew this. Ami knew this. But what Ami didn't know was that Ino was already three steps ahead of her.

First, Ino had shaken things up by missing practice _on purpose_. She took it a level further by staying out of the purple-haired girl's line of sight for the rest of the day, which, obviously, infuriated her more.

Secondly, the blonde girl refused to reply to any of the cronies attempts at trying to attack her for Ami. This eliminated all the options Ami would otherwise have. Ino knew that she didn't have the balls to dare show up at her house without invitation. This is practically illegal, so she was fine for as long as she could keep news of the final step of her plan away from Ami.

And, finally, the third phase. Ino signed into her KPA account and made ways to create an event for tonight, which she would conveniently 'forget' to invite Ami to. That would finally pull the plug toward her sanity, and, no doubt, she would find a way to crash the party Ino had designed for her to crash. There would be yelling and fighting, which she would find someway to center around the majority of people, and then it would happen. Ami would do something so grand that she would make herself a villain, and, though she would be the talk of the school, so would Ino. And everybody knows that attacking somebody that is supposed to be your friend during a social event so grand can only damage your reputation.

The blonde girl pressed the finished button on her screen and smiled smugly, more than proud with what she had concocted.

It's Popularity 101, and the stage can't be shared for too long, after all.

* * *

><p>Sasuke came back in exactly ten minutes and if I was just one second longer in spying on his profile—ahem, ogling at all the pictures under the folder of 'Summer Trip' and the amazing body in that swimsuit—he would've caught me on what I assumed to be his laptop. I plastered on the most innocent face I could think of and smiled widely when he returned, blue bag as full as it was when he exited earlier. He plopped it on the first bed and followed suit, sitting slowly on the navy bedding.<p>

"That was fast," I said moments later, the silence of the air conditioner blowing cool air into the room unnerving me, especially under the bored gaze of Sasuke. I felt like he was trying to decipher something in his mind (psh, he's a genius; he probably knew somehow that I was totally spying on his profile) and that his eyes drilled right through my soul. It was somewhat invasive, but it does feel unfair for me to say that considering what I was just doing. When he cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing in calculation, my heart starts pounding hard.

He grimaces lightly, "You look like a deer in headlights."

That's exactly what every girl likes to hear.

Rather than sit in my own lie and marinate in it as a lobster getting prepared for dinner, I decide that I might as well admit it to relieve myself of the cold, empty, pregnant silences. "You, uh, had a notification on your KPA account so, um, I—it was for this party Ino's having tonight. It started about an hour ago."

"Aa," he mumbled kicking some junk under his roommate's bed. "We can do it on the bed, it'll be more comfortable."

My face lights up a bright pink color. Despite the fact that I know Sasuke doesn't mean what my negative mind jumped to immediately, I can't help the fuzzy feeling that takes over me. I know that I honestly should keep my head in the right place, because, seriously, the later it gets, the more likely I am to do something I really would regret later on. I can't allow myself to let Sasuke discombobulate me. He's unattainable. What's going on right now is simply attraction and, well, it _is_ math time right now.

I nod and take a seat next to Sasuke, scooting awkwardly on the comfortable mattress until I feel at a comfortable distance from him. "Um, I didn't finish the last unit, so…," I swallowed thickly, his eyes so analytical that I had to think about every word that came out my mouth, checking it for importance. "I'll work on that."

He told me that he was going to shower fast, and try to be back by time I was finished in order to check the problems and try to clear them up for me if I had any issues. Within the moments that it took me to gather my notebook and book and situate myself on his bed for the work—get your mind _out _of the gutter—, lying on my stomach propped up on my elbows, Sasuke was gathering a change of clothes and a towel, going in and out of the bathroom.

I sighed of relief, however silly it was for me to be holding a breath at the thought of him coming out of the bathroom half dressed, all damp, hair wet, and body glistening in clean moisture, when he said he was putting his clothes on in the bathroom.

As soon as I sigh, I regret it, because he sticks his head out of the corner with a smirk.

"What?" I snap, looking up from my number-filled page.

Sasuke chuckles lightly, shaking his head in amusement, returning to the shower room with the soft click of the door.

* * *

><p>We were in eight grade, during those awkward years when you weren't old enough to do most things by yourself, but you were too old to feel okay about your parents doing everything for you. You weren't quite old enough to justify wearing clothes that the high school kids were wearing but you could fit in to them, puberty was just kicking in for some, but for others, not so much. Some classmates were already claiming their stakes in the world, and some were still going with the flow.<p>

I was that kid who went with the flow because going with the flow was working for me. The current was nice and calm, in a metaphorical sense, meaning that I was high enough on the social ranking to be considered popular and cool. Because that—going with the flow—hadn't had me sitting at a lunch table with kids whom at their boogers instead of the gross egg salad and pastrami they had packed themselves for lunch. No, no, I was in the center of everything. Just because I was Ino's friend, and I went with the flow of everything she did.

The waters started getting rocky one day during lunch.

At our table, the seating was always the same. It had _always_ been the same. The table was circular, so in a counter-clockwise direction it was Naruto, Sasuke, Neji, Shikamaru, Ami, Karin, Ino, myself, Kiba and Hinata. Always. As in, it never changed. And it never did because even as ten and eleven year olds, we knew that certain people didn't get along, but strategically placing them would help balance out the chaos. It went that way. It stayed like that, too, until Ino decided to trade seats with Karin.

Okay, I know you're like, boo-who, what's the big deal? It's only one seat switch. It was just as minimal as that, in the beginning, too. Sure, the difference was noticeable and shocking at first, but I got used to it. I figured that Ino had something she wanted to talk to Ami-chan about, and talking around Karin was going to be too troublesome. So, I went with it. For three weeks. I knew something was going on behind my back by that time, but for some reason I never wanted to believe that inkling. Ino was my friend—my _best_ friend. She'd never hide anything from me, would she?

"Oi, Sakura-chan," Naruto had called me after lunch one day, chasing after me through the bustling crowd of children.

I turned and smiled, "Hey, Naruto-kun. What's up?"

He shrugged and began speeding through a story Ami told him during spelling class. "Ami-chan told me that Ino-chan told _her_ that when you were at her swimming pool party last week that you hadn't worn a bikini because you were fat and that you didn't eat anything because you were scared that you were going to get even fatter! So then, I told her that that was a complete lie and that you did have on a bikini it was just that you never took off your cover-up dress, and that there was no way that you were fat because you're so tiny and I can pick you up."

The story lit something behind my eyes and made them sting, dozens of pricks hitting the back until I could feel the tears pooling around the spheres. My throat tightened on itself but I closed my eyes tightly, swallowing thickly. "Um, is that all, Naruto-kun?"

"Uh-huh," he said, nodding, "Ami did that weird face thing that she does when somebody questions her stories, then she said 'Whatever, Uzumaki, we all know that she's a loser and she only hangs out with us because of Ino'. Then I said that that was crazy and that you were the coolest person in this cool. She looked at me all crazy like and said, 'That's not what Ino-chan says, idiot'." And then the bell rang."

My lip quivered, but somehow I had managed to keep it all in. I conjured up a smile and thanked Naruto for sticking up for me, and told him that he had better go or else he'd be late to Rin-chan's class again. He gave me an once-over, and then smiled weakly, turning and heading down the hallway. It's weird now, looking back, that I didn't say anything else, that he didn't say anything else. Naruto was always making sure that I was one-hundred percent comfortable, one-hundred percent okay. When I replay him walking away, I realize through older eyes that he really was walking away. He'd never talk to me again.

Lunch rolled around the next day and, naturally, I made my way through all of the other tables, to the one in the very middle. When I finally reached it, all of the normal chatter seemed to cease, and all eyes were on me. My palms began to sweat underneath my lunch tray, and I bit my lip, nervous. Had I interrupted something?

Karin snorted, narrowing her red eyes at me. "Is she, like, confused or something?" She whispered loudly, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and speaking into Ami's ear, but keeping her eyes trained on me, "She is _such _a freak." She was making sure I had heard that, even though it was impossible for me not to. My mouth went dry. These people were supposed to be my friends. What did I do to deserve this?

Ami turned to Ino and whispered in her ear, too quiet for me to dream of hearing. Still, though, I tried. I tried to judge her face, which was blank as a board, and it didn't offer me anything. Ami could be instigating something else. Did I ever do anything to Ami? First, she told Naruto that lie about my being fat and not wanting to wear a bikini, even though I did have one on. Now, she could be telling Ino some other lie, something I had no control over. How long had Ami been ruining whatever little reputation I had?

Anger boiled inside of me like something I couldn't control. This was wrong. I watched as Ino grinned and nodded, flicking her eyes toward me. She stood up slowly, walking past Shikamaru and Neji, and pushing the latter a little, as she squeezed her way between him and Sasuke. She glanced at me again, making sure that I was still watching her show with active attention, which I was. I couldn't help it.

She threw her head to the side which made her ponytail swing and smiled coyly at Sasuke, giggling. "Hey, Sasuke-kun, guess what?"

My heart died inside of me.

"Sakura-chan has this _shrine _of you in her room. She totally worships you every night; I watched her this one time when we had a sleepover. Isn't that weird?"

The image of my best friend distorted as tears pooled into my eyes, and I felt my lunch tray slipping out of my hands. This wasn't fair. I didn't have I shrine! I didn't worship him! I sent my angry, hot, red eyes toward Ami, who was watching my every reaction. She and Karin cackled when I scowled at them as strongly as I could, twirling their hair together.

I took a struggling breath and turned toward Ino, fully intent on asking her what she thought she was doing. She knew that was a lie. Why would she tell Sasuke that? My feet took three steps closer until I froze Ino's eyes boring into my own.

"Hey, Sasuke-kun, guess what again," she flicked away from me then, speaking far louder than necessary. "You should go out with _me_ just to make her realize how dumb it was to like you, ne? Isn't that a good idea?"

My tray plopped to the floor, hard plastic clanking on the linoleum flooring six times. I don't remember crying but I remember the wetness flowing from my eyes, down my cheeks, and plopping onto the ground. I don't remember running away blindly but I remember the laughter that roared in the lunchroom when I ran into the doors that lead to the hallways. I don't remember looking out the glass doors and watching as my friends stared at me blankly, confused and concerned, but I do remember the smug look covering one girl's face. The proud face on the other. The slightly regretful, slightly reminiscent, somewhat indifferent, but mostly arrogant. I don't remember it being the last day of school, but I remember sitting alone in my bed every day, every night, while the whir of my ceiling fan kept the heat away from me.

The one thing I remember for sure:

Sasuke glancing at me, dark eyes zeroing in on my fleeing form, and then returning to Ino with a shrug. Throughout all of the lunchroom chatter, I managed to hear his reply.

"Yeah."

I was drowning in the river that once let me ride its current without question.

* * *

><p>Naruto strolled into Cheese Me casually, happy to see that his mother was busy waiting tables. Naturally, that meant that they were being hounded with diners and he, being a delivery boy and all, would be unnecessary for the duration of the day. He practically skipped to his mother and smiled in greeting at the people she was currently taking the orders of. She finished scribbling notes, and glanced toward her giddy son. Sighing, she asked, "What is it, Naruto?"<p>

"Let me take that for you, Kaa-san," he ripped the ticket from her notebook and weaved in between tables, barely missed scraping his relatives—which earned him a few nasty comments (even though they supposedly 'loved' him, right?)—and slid behind the counter in record time. Kushina was following close behind him, apologizing for her son's crazy antics. When she finally reached him, she grumbled, "I could have done that myself."

Naruto scoffed, "You're such a feminist."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as Naruto slinked away, sheepishly hooking the order ticket onto the line for the chefs. "Look, Mom," he said, casually wrapping an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders, "I was wondering…there's this party—"

"Where?"

"Earth, Asia, island, Japan, Konoha, Dynasty Falls, their house."

Kushina rolled her eyes at her son's goofy antics while shrugging off his arm. "Parental supervision? Drugs? Drinks?"

"I'm seventeen, Mommy!" The blond boy whined, stomping his foot on the kitchen floor. This was very unfair. He was completely responsible for himself. He knew when to say when and knew when enough was enough and beyond all things, he was a big boy now! He didn't need to be told how he should party. Naruto definitely knew how to fist pump and throw back shots and he didn't even know how many beers he slammed back that one time he was playing that drinking game with the blurry person.

His mother tightened her lips and crossed her arms, only to release the tension from her body seconds later with a lengthy sigh. "Who's throwing this party, Naruto-kun?"

He brightened immediately. "Yamanaka Ino and like I said it's at her house and I'm sure her dad locked the alcohol up in the cabinets before he left," Naruto grinned with guilt when he realized this misstep. "But, uh, it seemed totally civil when I delivered the pizza to her place. Just a small group of maybe ten, twenty people."

Naruto watched her expression as it ran through whatever parents did when their children asked if they could do things. He was just seconds away from getting on his knees, clasping his hands together and begging when she relented, wagging her finger, "You can go."

"YES!"

"But," she quickly intervened, gripping his shoulders to keep him from jumping around, "only if Sasuke-kun goes with you. I don't want you alone with possibility booze, and of all places, at Yamanaka Ino's house."

The blond boy's smile fell drastically, cheeks hurting from previous usage. "Well, okay, I guess. He was going to go anyway."

Kushina raises a red brow.

"I was going to make him go anyway."

She crossed her arms.

Naruto groaned, "Ugh, fine, gosh, Kaa-san. Sasuke-teme wasn't going to go at all and I was going to drag him along with me to tease slash laugh at slash humiliate him, but now he's going to make sure I don't kill my brain with beer, vodka, and or spirits."

"That's my boy," she smiled, patting his shoulder and ruffling his hair.

* * *

><p>Suigetsu is definitely <em>not<em> leading them to a new skate park, TenTen decided. Of course, she had her questions as to where they were really going a few blocks back, but it was supposedly a park that she never heard of. When the quartet—including herself, Kin, fat sickly colored lard whom we shall call Sui-lame-o and Juugo—rounded a corner into a subdivision, TenTen was sure they weren't going to a skate park.

It was Dynasty Falls, for Kami sake!

"Change of plans, comrades," Suigetsu said suavely, peeking over his shoulder as preformed a smooth 180 spin, forcing him to face the three following him. He stopped ahead of the iron rod gates of the fancy only-rich-snobby-financially constipated people could afford to live here subdivision. "We are _not _going to a going to a skate park," he continued. "We are at a very green living housing area."

Kin, sporting too many cuts and bruises to remain calm, cool and collected, snapped. "No shit, Sherlock! I don't believe I followed your ass down the street of my own house and still didn't question where we were going. And of all places, a little adopted city street rat kid wants to visit Dynasty Falls? _Dynasty _Falls? This is great. Fantastic. Let me add _this_ to the list of stupid things I've do—"

"Can it, Tsuchi!" TenTen barked, stopping on her board and flipping it under her arm. She was just as annoyed with her cousins—Sui-lame-o—as Kin was. She turned to the blue-haired idiot. "Why are we at Dynasty Falls you little ball-less diptard? Dude, I know I hang out with people that live here but _come on_ you know I just act like that!"

Juugo nodded his assent.

Suigetsu leaned against one of the more predominant posts, crossing his arms across his chest almost as tightly as he held his jaw. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "Fine. Yell at me because I lied to Ma about going to some skate park. But, look, this is going to be ten times cooler than hanging around a bunch of 'city street rat kids'," he sent an angry glare at Kin.

"Yeah, I said that," she bit out dark eyes narrowing in contest.

The contested let his jaw dropped before he snapped it shut harshly. "I've never hit a girl, but if I squint I'm sure hitting you will be _just_ like sending a fist at some skinny short ugly klutzy poser dude who doesn't know an ollie from a 360."

She nearly exploded, charging toward Suigetsu. Fully used to holding people back from him, TenTen and Juugo each grabbed one of Kin's tensed and thrashing arms. When she finally calmed enough to be released, Juugo looked toward Suigetsu. Without a hint of sarcasm, he allowed, "It's late, Suigetsu. Since it'll be idiotic to just turn back and go home, please enlighten us with your amazing idea."

TenTen scoffed. "I don't know how fun breaking into some rich person's house can be in Dynasty Falls. They all have killer security systems."

"Oh, but my dear female cousin," Suigetsu started, pushing off the post, "we are not breaking into any house. We're crashing a party—and if my sources are correct, it should be at Yamanaka Ino's place."

Even though he completely expected the two Konoha Prep student's jaws to drop, he faked surprise, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Don't tell me you guys know her?"

Their mouths split into huge grins, and TenTen clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, you're a freaking _genius._"

"I'm told."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: OH MY GOSH! Thank you guys _so_ much for reviewing! I feel like I still need to apologize. I hate whining. I just hate it. So I'm sorry if I annoyed any one with my letting begging session last chapter. Um, so I'll get to what I need to tell you, yes?

**FAQ: **

1. Yes, Sasuke and Ino dated. No, they do not date now. They dated from the eighth grade until the middle of tenth.

2. Yes, Ami was cheerleading captain as a freshman. Does that really happen in real life? I don't know. I don't cheerlead. But I guess it could happen when you're Watanabe Ami. Ha.

3. As of this chapter, it is still Sunday. The chapter starts at around 8 o'clock and ends at around 10. No, Sakura is not going to be at Sasuke's dorm in the morning. It is actually against the rules to be in the boys' dorms when you're a girl and vice versa, so…

4. TenTen's going away party is on Monday, or 'tomorrow' story-wise.

5. Sasuke's not a player**.**

6. Yeah, I notice my grammar all the time after I read them over…once they're posted. Ha. It's going to happen when each chapter has roughly 5,000 words. I do have a beta but we're still working out a schedule.

**Any more questions? Feel free to ask. **

**REVIEWERS!: **Thanks for reviewing…_olol_, _TeamTHEFT_, _BlueSakuraLauren_, _BriBri, yobrother91200, Renny-chan_, , _shasa_, and _TheBloodyLoveofSakuraHaruno_

**REVIEW QUESTION: **What's the name of Naruto's pizza place?

BTW, I think I'm going to need to split this chapter into two parts, but I kind of don't want to do that since **I'll be on vacation without a computer for two weeks**. Even though it really won't make much of a difference, I still needed to rant. So. A split chapter or just two separate ones? (Because really, the chapter name and quote still match what is going to happen next, and words/quotes with ugly in them just don't show up easily.)

I think I went crazy with the bold today.

Shrug.

lol

~Fryer!

_**Review!**_


	6. Ugly Situation

**Ugly**

* * *

><p>"<em>People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."<em>

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Six<em>

Ugly Situation

* * *

><p>"Do you ever think about when we were younger?"<p>

My feet kicked rhythmically as my pencil twirled in my hand. A headache stabbed at my sinuses from the difficulty the problems were now presenting. Even though I was trying to stay focused, my mind kept straying.

When his response never happened, I twisted my body until I faced him. I quirked my eyebrow, tapping his foot with the eraser of my pencil to catch his attention.

The monotonous sound of his baseball knocking the ceiling and bouncing back into his bare palm stopped. He shrugged, tossing the ball between his two hands at a lightning speed. "Hn," he grunted. "I—sometimes, yes. Why?"

I tuck my legs underneath me so I'm sitting on my shins. "I think too much," I admit, waving the importance of the statement away with my hand.

It was no secret that I had a habit of thinking and letting my mind do the work too much. It was even less of a secret that I was a bit scatterbrained. How I jumped from one train of thought to another was almost embarrassing.

"Anyway," I smile, "I have a killer headache and I couldn't think of any other way to stop you from denting your ceiling. Reminisce with me?"

He snorted. "I don't reminisce," he says simply, speaking out each syllable of 'reminisce' with a mocking clarity. "The future is the only thing we can control."

"What about the present? It's what we live in, after all."

The look he sends my way brings a shiver down my spine and I bite my lip. Reaching for a piece of hair, I twirl it nervously. Apparently, _somebody_ gets a little sensitive whenever somebody else questions his preferences.

"But, whatever, let's talk about something else," I say, changing the subject swiftly.

He nods, placing the baseball back in the drawer beside his bed.

A silence looms over us as I wait for him to introduce a new topic of conversation. After a few minutes, I discover that that was never going to happen. Unless staring at each other and breathing every few moments was a new form of communication, we were getting absolutely nowhere. My face scrunches as I ponder on something that everyone, no matter how much they disliked speaking, could talk about for a substantial amount of time.

I plop my head onto my hand, a smile tugging at my lips. "Hey, Sasuke," I start, an energetic tone in my voice that shocks even me.

His eyes meet mine, leaving the wall that he was staring at uninterestingly. Eyebrows perched upward in slight interest, he echoes, "Hey, Sakura."

"Hey," I sing, a soft laugh rolling off my lips. "So what do you think is in Kakashi-sensei's books?"

Sasuke scoffs, "My roommate. He's made it his life mission to find out."

"Half of the Konoha Prep students who've ever had Kakashi have!" I laugh, recalling the ridiculous stories that drifted through the halls about the escapades people went on to discover the contents of the book. "Do you think that he'll ever find out? I mean, it's senior year—last chance."

"Aa," he says, allowing a fond half-smile, "The idiot's determined."

I laugh along with Sasuke's quiet chuckles. Eventually neither of us can control our silliness, he commenting on my snort (I know, how embarrassing) and I on his terrible excuse of a laugh. Somewhere between my teasing him on how messy his dorm room is and realizing that I probably wasn't going to get anymore work done tonight, I realize I like the sound of his 'laugh'.

I try to control my giggles enough to ask why he doesn't laugh often, but a sharp pain stabs at my stomach from my hard laughter. I roll onto my back, hair splaying over the mattress.

Maybe that was just a warning telling me that I was already pushing the normal boundaries, having him talking and laughing. I sigh and the thought exits my mind with the air leaving my lungs.

A comfortable silence—something almost foreign between us—floats into the room. The only thing interrupting it was our heavy breathing from the previous giggle fit. I notice that the paint on the ceiling was chipping, especially closer to Sasuke's bed. He must toss that baseball around a lot.

I tilt my head toward him, immediately bombarded by the intense gaze boring into my eyes.

"What is it?" I ask, easily feeling self-conscious.

Three beats pass before he shakes his head, looking out the window. "It's nothing," he exhales, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry about it."

I furrow my eyebrows and scramble into a seated position, scooting closer to him. Maybe later I'll realize how stupid I'm being right now. He's already told me that he would rather not talk about whatever _that_ episode was about. I should honor his privacy, since it seems he holds it in high regards. But no. My curiosity takes the best of me, as usual.

"Did I say something?" I ask quietly, referring to our earlier jeering.

Silence is my only reply, and for a split second, I'm defeated. Taking one glance at his conflicted face, expression obviously trying to remain blank, my resolve hardens.

I try again, "Did I _do_ something?"

"You're _being_ annoying," he seethes, finally turning away from the view the window offered. His eyes and jaw are locked hard, lips drawn tight in a thin line. It is then that I realize our proximity, my eyes having to cross just to see his aggravated face clearly.

The threatening mask falls shortly after he realized how he sound and he mumbles an apology. "You reminded me of someone," he admits, standing from the bed.

I watch him pace throughout the small dorm room as I battle with myself. Do I really want to know who I reminded him of? Is it that important? I have a hard time believing that it's worth volleying a positive or negative response from him when he reacts so drastically.

When he returns into my line of sight, a jacket is strewn over his shoulders, a pair of gym shoes in his hand.

My feet act on their own desperate selves, and soon I'm right in front of him.

"Where're you going?" I ask him, though it's obvious he's leaving, and it shouldn't matter to me if he didn't tell me where to in the first place. Despite knowing this, I couldn't help but hold on to that little sliver of hope that I hadn't messed everything up.

"On a walk," he answers curtly. "I'll see you Tuesday."

I reach out for his shoulder before he can take any more steps. "Wait," I say, tongue thickening of just the thought of saying what was at the forefront of my mind.

He shrugs my hand off and gives me a look that translates into: "You have three seconds."

My neck reddens in accordance with my cheeks. Now with all of his attention, I have to spit it out. Heart pounding like a caged animal against my ribs, I close my eyes and swallow roughly.

When the sound of the floorboard creaking meets my ears, I force it out.

"Did I remind you of Ino?" I blurt, opening my eyes but avoiding his dutifully.

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the task of avoiding his eyes becomes impossible. The intensity of the fire burning beneath his coal black orbs drags my own eyes to his forcefully, like a magnet. One glance at Sasuke's blank, barren, emotionless face confirmed the looming suspicion drifting around my thoughts.

A lump formed in my throat at my image. How could _I_ possibly remind him of Ino?

Whom did he see in those obsidian eyes? The girl with the 'naturally-my-ass' cotton candy pink hair…the girl with the breasts just large enough to be considered breasts, just out of the A-cup and training sizes? Her lips are too full; her legs are too long for her to be that short; she is so clumsy; she's so quiet; look how big her ears are; there's this new invention called a flat iron…nothing like his ex-girlfriend.

I ripped my eyes away from his. The blank expression and the burning eyes were becoming too much. The room spun around me and my knees grew weak.

The silence swallowed me entirely into a well of blackness; somewhere within it was cracking. It sounded like an old pottery vase tapped lightly a tiny hammer—a distant, hollow sound harping through my mind.

"I'm so—," I started only to be interrupted by the simultaneous actions of his disheartening, silencing glare meeting my eyes and the distinct _blink!_ of a keycard being accepted on the door's lock system. Both Sasuke and I tensed as the door swung open, loud whistling and footsteps filling in the previous silence.

Despite the tenseness of the situation, I couldn't kill the curiosity that filled me at who interrupted my apology. However, Sasuke completely covered the door, his back facing it. I must've moved in front of him during my blind raged rant.

The whistling stopped as did the footsteps, the sound of the door slamming meeting my ears. "Oi, teme, I need you to drop me off somewhere," the voice abruptly stopped, "WOAH! I swear to Kami you're psychic. Look at you all ready to go with your jacket on and, do my eyes deceive me? Are those _keys_ in your hand?"

Sasuke tightened his jaw, giving me a hard look before turning stoically toward the voice that was growing more and more familiar by the second.

"No, dobe. They're _shoes_. You put them on your feet?"

"No, teme. You're a bastard. Roommates punch them in the face?"

I suddenly felt like I was invading something, as if I shouldn't be in here. I closed my eyes, trying my hardest to think of anything that would dry my tears, which for some reason, still lingered in my eyes.

I wouldn't want to make the situation any more awkward than it was surely going to be when his roommate finally noticed me—of all people—standing in the middle of the room, on the verge of tears, and obviously in the midst of something that was not meant to have been disturbed, as it was.

Suddenly, I felt the intensity of a pair of eyes studying me.

"Um, hey, I'm sorry," I said weakly, keeping my eyes on my shoes and focusing on the feel of the weight of my tote on my shoulder. "I was just leaving, so—"

"You don't have to leave, Sakura-chan!"

My eyes flicked up quickly, meeting those blue as the ocean eyes quickly. "Hi, Naruto-kun," I wave, all fingers wiggling, "but I do have to leave. I have some studying to do." _By myself_, I bite out mentally, sparing a glance at Sasuke, who was tossing his baseball into the ceiling again.

I return to the blond boy quickly, but apparently not fast enough, seeing that he was now looking between his roommate and myself with an eyebrow cocked, obviously confused.

I clear my throat, "But, yeah. I'm leaving, so—"

"Stop saying that, Sakura-chan! You don't have to leave. Hey," he says, grabbing my arm as I try to head to the door. I wince but try to play it off as a smile. "I have an idea. I'm actually going to get Sasuke-teme over there to take me to a party. Do you want to come with us?"

"I wasn't invited."

"So? Neither was I, for some odd reason—I mean me and Ino are like this," he twists his middle and pointer fingers together, "But, whatever, I'm sure teme was invited so it's cool; we'll all just crash together. How's that sound?"

Figuring a nod, a smile, and a promise of meeting him and Sasuke here in forty-five minutes would get me out of the dorm faster than a 'no' would, I did just that. Now, with the impressions of Naruto's smiling face, Sasuke's blank face, and my face reflecting in those cobalt eyes, I sigh. I want nothing more than to bury myself in a hole and never come back out.

I had to do something about all of this, but the cold night air whipping me like a leaf in the fall, I couldn't—wouldn't allow myself to think of anything else but the warmth, comfort, and mental protection my mattress and sheets provided as soon as I crossed the divide between the boys' and girls' dormitory buildings.

* * *

><p>Ino dumped the pizza boxes on her counter gracelessly, arms aching from holding the food for such an extensive time. She then grasped the bottles of soda, struggling to open her refrigerator with her full hands.<p>

This was going perfectly.

It seemed as if the whole school was stuffed in her house, dancing, grinding, and most recently, eating Cheese Me pizza delivered by none other than the owner's son. He was bound to arrive at any moment now, dragging a Motley crew of friends with him, no doubt.

Ino grumbled as she rolled her eyes, looking over the receipt. Who was the only person she knew that would order so much food from the same place, anyway?

_Inuzuka_, she resolved, a little light bulb lighting above her head. She was going to kill him. This nearly cost one hundred dollars, and she gave Naruto more than that in haste. She rolled her eyes, examining her recently hounded island for someone she could talk to about the precious dog boy. Her eyes landed on the football captain, a pretty smile inhabiting her face.

"Zaku-kun," she hummed, taking a seat in his lap. "How've you been?"

Ino shortly realized that he smelled exactly like booze, crack, and general must. She fought the instinctual want to scrunch her nose and focused on her goal instead. She needed somebody to hunt down Kiba so she could yell at him. Zaku swallowed a piece of sausage from his pizza, eyeing the blonde girl lustfully before answering, "Even better now, babe."

_This is disgusting_, Ino choked internally. "Zaku, listen, I just needed a seat and you know I find you absolutely atrocious," she said honestly. He grimaced, but was cut short from whatever retort he was going to throw out when Ino continued, "I wanted to know if you've seen Kiba-kun. I think he ordered the pizza and he owes me a lot of money now."

The brunet football player nodded. "He's playing basketball in your backyard with the rest of the boys. But, if you're looking for money…" he sent her a hazy, heavy, lustful look.

Ino scoffed, hopping off his lap. "This is hopeless," she muttered strutting away, toward her backyard.

"Ay! Come back!"

Even though she screeched back an aggravated denial of his request, the sound was drowned out by the pulsating loudness of the music pumping against the walls and glass windows of her house. She squeezed through all of the people, barely registering the faces of all the people having a good time at her party. A tinge of pride coursed through her before the distinctive coolness of liquid splashed at her feet.

She looked in the general direction of the spill and lashed out. "Oh, my Kami, that had better been an accident because this is a new dress!" She placed her hands on her hips, eyeing some sophomore down. "Be more careful, before I kick you out."

"Sorry," the underclassmen blurted, pausing shortly in her chattering.

Ino smiled and forgave the almost-disaster, returning to her trek. She couldn't believe that Kiba would do that. Well, she could believe it. The boy tends to work with more his stomach than his brain.

Ino took a breath of fresh air when she finally broke through the bulk of the crowd and stepped into her blocked off dining room, a wooden sliding door separating her and the boisterous party. She grumbled when she looked down at the white carpeting and noticed multiple shoe-shaped brown stains on the carpet. "Stupid boy," she muttered before a trail of far worse unmentionable words slipped through her glossed lips.

He was going to owe her more than cash when she was done with him!

She practically stomped toward the tall French doors leading toward her backyard, huge stadium-sized lights brightening the otherwise pitch black, near eleven, night. She stormed toward the basketball court and walked right up to Neji, who, apparently, was playing on the 'Skins' team with Kiba. She almost fainted at the level of _deliciousness _radiating from just the two of them, let alone from the other ten or so boys playing. But regained focus, hearing—instead of bells and whistles of hotness—the fit the boys were throwing because of her interruption.

"Hi, boys," she hummed, snatching the ball from the longhaired Hyuuga. More shouts of detest rose, but she hushed them with a single look. Balancing the ball between the curve of her waist and arm, she smiled. "I hate to interrupt your game like this, you know, so forcefully and all, but simply calling a time-out wouldn't have sufficed."

Kiba let a cocky grin spread across his lips as he stepped off the concrete floor of the court, and onto the grass with the blonde girl. "You know you just wanted to see me, gorgeous," he whispered in her ear, gently kissing her check. Ignoring the hoots, calls, and hollers from his teammates and friends, he took a miniscule step away from the girl, still grinning.

Ino rolled her eyes at his antics, happy that her hair covered the reddening tips of her ears and the back of her neck. She was sure her makeup did the job for her cheeks. "Not here, not tonight, not _ever_, Kiba. But," She said, looping a finger around a loose strand of hair. "I did come to talk to you. You have the Cheese Me place on speed dial, right? The place where Naruto-kun works?"

"Yeah, number one in my FaveFive, actually. Why?"

The Yamanaka grimaced, lifting her heeled foot and jabbing it into Kiba's foot. "You owe me! I must've thrown that dunce like six-hundred dollars!"

Kiba threw his arms up in innocence. "Whoa, whoa, calm those horses down. I didn't order any pizza."

The blue-eyed girl narrowed her eyes dangerously, "Pasta? Soda?"

"No. And, uh," He rubbed at his chin, putting on a serious thinking face before deadpanning another, "no. I'm not the only one at this whole entire party who would order a shit load of Cheese Me. Especially not in the middle of a game, which_ you are interrupting_."

He snatched the ball away from her with two hands, "So, go ask someone else. I'll call you back during half-time; maybe you could put those pom-poms to use."

"I don't have my pom-poms with me, idiot."

Kiba smirked, dribbling the ball as he walked backwards, "I'm not talking about _those_ pom-poms."

Ino gasped loudly and shrilly, turning so sharply on her heel that her hair swung like a whip behind her. She could not _believe _the nerve of some people!

* * *

><p>"Hey, Shikamaru, didn't I order barbeque Buffalo wings?"<p>

The genius cracked his tortilla chip in half, casually dipping it in the salsa. He submerged the chip into the red sauce three particular times, tapped it on the edge of the clear bowl four times, removing any excess, and lifted it to his mouth. With a practiced expression, he chewed as boringly as possible, slowly and time-consuming. After swallowing, he reached for another chip, only to have it slapped out of his hand by Choji.

Shikamaru stared at him, a slight frown at his lips. "What?"

"Buffalo wings? The best thing ever invented in the world of chicken since chicken fingers?" He clarified impatiently, a piece of cheese pizza hanging dangerously in his palm.

Shikamaru watched the cheese lazily, deciphering that it would plop onto Ino's nice hardwood flooring in less than fifteen seconds. Considering that the slice probably wouldn't last that long in his best friend's hands if he had anything to do with it, Shikamaru felt whatever miniscule amount of concern he had for flooring melt away.

It wasn't that much of a task to begin with, but, he decided, snapping another chip and starting his process over, he would much rather avoid Yamanaka Ino's radar. Hanging out by the snack table was proving a successful tactic, though the music and countless people spiking and re-spiking the punch was starting to get annoying.

"Can you hear me, Shikamaru?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at his friend. "Surprisingly."

Choji grumbled, speaking between chomps of bread, tomato sauce, and your standard greasy pizza cheese. "Well, I'm sorry, but you aren't helping very well, Shikamaru."

"Where'd you order from? Maybe you could call back and ask for verification and a reorder," Shikamaru offered, reaching into the tortilla bag and finding it, dismay, emptied. He rolled his eyes and let them land on a sketchy kid holding a bottle covered by a paper bag. "If you get me some more chips, I won't rat on you," he told a teen that had never seen before. "Come on, hurry up, I've already tattled on the last three kids who refused to replenish the crackers."

"In the kitchen, right, pineapple head?"

His thin eyebrows inched closer together after moments of examining the appearance of the teenager. Was blue skin…healthy? He looked up, checking the lighting. Maybe it was the lights or something. Shikamaru nodded slowly, handing him the empty bag, "Yep. Should be on the counter or something but, you know, ask around. Somebody's bound to know."

"Got it," the teen said, disappearing around the corner, the longest way to the kitchen.

Shikamaru sighed, completely bored now that he had nothing to entertain his mind with. His eyes danced over the table, finding three assorted flavors of punch in bowls. He grinned, grabbing a cup from the top of the stacks and scooping ice from one of the silver bin things—an ice bin, was it?—and dumping it in the plastic cup. Which bowl had he seen most of the alcohol put in to, again?

He smiled, spooning pink punch into his cup. It was time to find out.

Karin slinked in her passenger seat beside Ami, who was currently grilling her out for something Ino had done, or rather, forgotten to do. Though she didn't understand why or how any of this was her fault, she had no choice but to listen to the voice bicker.

"Like, did she finally reach that level of stupidity that just completely surpasses a normal person's interpretation?" she yelled stomping on the brakes so hard at a stop sign that Karin's seatbelt was the only thing keeping the redhead from flying into the dashboard. She quickly resituated herself in her seat, the pounding of her heart drowning her ears momentarily. "How can she _forget _to invite _me_?"

Ami reached for the collar of her friend's cropped denim jacket, pulling her nose to nose to her. "Did she forget that I happen to be in control of her very existence in the social chain of this school? Like, really, she is so _stupid_!" She threw Karin back into her seat, driving vigorously and angrily down the street, her speed way above the limit.

"Totally," Karin agreed emptily, checking the phone in her pocket for a text message. When the little icon read one of her closest friend's names across the top of the text, she grinned. "Speaking of forgetting, though, do you remember how I told you that I had somebody on it for us?"

Ami turned another corner, noticing the accumulation of cars parked on the side of the streets. As the number of parking spaces decreased, she knew the party was coming closer, but she was still nowhere near the Yamanaka house. She really hated Destiny Falls at night.

For some reason, the subdivision refused to install streetlamps, and it was completely impossible to navigate through. She rolled her eyes when she went into yet another circle, and brought her attention to Karin. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, he said that they just made it. Him and his friends are doing little things, you know; spiking punch, pushing people into other people. Nothing major until we make it there."

For the first time in what felt like the same day, a smile split across Ami's face. "Excellent," she sang, gems of her dress sparkling in the night light of the moon.

Karin scooted closer to the window, farther from the girl. "Do you have to smile creepy like that?" She asked, pretending to look out the window when she was really trying to erase the devilish grin out of her mind. "It's creepy," she shuddered; face molding into the type of expression you make after viewing somebody vomiting.

"You're creepy," Ami barked back, eyes narrowing. "Tell your friend that we'll be there soon; make sure everything is set up."

"Ami, I've been meaning to tell you, I don't think we should do that. It's so dramatic, and we'll only be stepping down to her level."

The purple-haired girl slowed to a stop, presumably finding a parking space. Snapping off her seatbelt so she could see where she was going as well as she could as she parallel parked, she glanced at Karin. "Listen to me. I'm pissed, hormonal, and a bitch. Don't tell me what to do, especially when you're wearing my shoes, my dress, and my earrings. I made you. And we all know what happens to those little bitches who step up to their maker, don't we?"

Karin swallowed deeply, too traumatized to formulate any words, just nodding despite the fact that all she wanted to do was run out of the car.

* * *

><p>Just as I had promised to myself earlier, here I was, relaxing in my bed, blankets looped warmly around me, head buried in both my and TenTen's pillows. Aside from my promise, I'd found a nice 'Terrible Day' chick flick and a hidden stash of chocolates in my desk drawer, and, right in the middle of the part of the movie where the guy was about to apologize and say how much he loved his true love—otherwise known as THE BEST PART—my cell phone buzzed to life.<p>

"Are you freaking _serious_ right now, Cellie?" I grumbled, digging around my lush paradise (read: bed full of way to many fluffy pillows and comforters :D) for the remote which must've drowned. When I retrieved the object, I pushed the pause button, freezing the stud-ly Leonardo DiCaprio—you know, when he was younger, not all old and wrinkly; not defying his sexiness now or anything, that's just not like the butter on my rolls to be spread—and that redhead chick who's name totally escapes me.

_(1) Text from Tennie-chan_, the block proudly proclaimed, and I pressed the OKAY button, realizing from what must've been the three millionth time in my life that I really needed a new phone. Like, immediately. I couldn't slide out anything, press my screen for hands-on-ness, or text with hyper speed. I was subjected to the life of pressing the number two three times whenever I wanted an 'F'. As I waited for the text to load—FML—I wondered what I had done in my life that made me deserve something prehistoric. It wasn't as if I failed or anything!

…um…It wasn't as if I failed _often_ and _purposefully _or anything!

Just thinking of the The Incident led me toward the remembrance of The Ugly Situation, and, embarrassingly, I started pounding my head on a pillow with lack of any other way to vent my emotion toward the unfavorable events that gravitate to me.

My phone buzzed in my palm again, and ceasing my self-battering via pillow.

"Hm," I quarried, eyebrows furrowing. Two texts from TenTen in less than ten minutes while she was hanging out with Kin—which was normally an all day event and into the wee hours of morning event, the main reason I decided against joining them—was one of the oddest happenings in a while. Throwing away the fact that almost everything in my life right now was different from what I was used to, I read the messages on my screen.

* * *

><p>11: 48: 34 PM<p>

To: Haruno Sakura

From: Yukabushi TenTen

Hey, Cherry! So…we ran into some trouble. hehe. Come get us, please! Or at least come to help. This blue freak convinced us to crash THE Yamanaka Ino's party. It's not going down well.

* * *

><p>11: 50: 06 PM<p>

To: Haruno Sakura

From: Yukabushi TenTen

SAKUUUURAAAAA! I really don't like the situation we're in right now. Sui is doing weird stuff and—he's on the stage calling for Ino! I don't even want to know what he's up to but I have to get OUT of here. HURRRYYYYY!

* * *

><p>Just Now, 11: 51: 43 PM<p>

To: Haruno Sakura

From: Yukabushi TenTen

Oh. My. Bejeezus.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_ So…couldn't help the cliffy. LOL. I'm still wondering if I should ever let you guys know exactly what happened in, like, story form, or just from the dialogue of other characters within the story, after the fact. I know which one will move the story on faster, but I don't know, I think it'd be a nice challenge to compose a super-embarrassing event. Anyway, on a more personal note: I had a great time of vacation to Cali. It was fantastic seeing all of my family who live there and meeting Mickey at Disney Land. Shopping was great too! I feel bad that this chapter is shorter, but as I said, I haven't had a cliffy yet and…they're fun and a good way to amp up the climatic moment. Ha.

Well, thanks for all that reviewed, sorry I'm too lazy to list, lol, but you guys should all check out my newest publication called _Butterfly Kisses_. It's a work in progress.

Um…REVIEW QUESTION!

_What was the snack Shikamaru was eating before he had to resort to tortilla chips?_

**BIG THANKS TO MY BETA! Sighs (.) and (.) Smiles (.) **

**Review, and love you lots!**

**~hotoffthefryer**


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